


when everything becomes too much

by kixyme



Series: The Queen of His Chessboard [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Violence, Clay | Dream is So Whipped (Video Blogging RPF), Derealization, Dissociation, Dream SMP Plot, Dream Smp, Dream and George in love on the Dream SMP because we deserve it, Dream is Puffy’s duckling it’s canon if I say it is, Dreamon!Dream, Established Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Established Karl Jacobs/Sapnap/Quackity, Fist Fights, If only George was awake during lore streams, Implied Sexual Content, Karlnapity, Light Torture, M/M, Multi, Panic Attacks, Post-Technoblade Execution on Dream SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Sexual Undertones, Skephalo, Therapist Cara | CaptainPuffy, Time Travelling Karl Jacobs, Tommy Doesn’t Betray Technoblade AU, awesamponk, back massages, boys cuddling, dreamnotfound, these tags are a mess I’m literally just adding them as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:54:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 31,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28889442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kixyme/pseuds/kixyme
Summary: Dream may have his queen, but it is only a matter of time before he is put into checkmate.The question is just how willing Quackity is to beat him at his own game.—Continuation of a Dream SMP fic where the server realized Dream’s one weakness, George.This fic takes place after my fic “how could I stop caring?” It is Post-Technoblade Execution where Tommy never betrays him.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity/Karl Jacobs/Sapnap, Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Karl Jacobs/Sapnap, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Ponk | DropsByPonk/Sam | Awesamdude, Sapnap/Quackity, Zak Ahmed/Darryl Noveschosch
Series: The Queen of His Chessboard [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2118615
Comments: 129
Kudos: 283





	1. George I

**Author's Note:**

> || SLIGHT DREAM SMP FINALE SPOILERS ||
> 
> Y’ALL IF ONLY GEORGE WAS INTO THE ROLEPLAY!!
> 
> losing my mind over the fact that Dream claims he has severed all attachments so that he could have power when he definitely cares about George BUT GEORGE ISN’T THERE TO BE CARED FOR
> 
> I was going to post this a week later but in good conscience I can’t,, I saw this coming asdhfjshshf
> 
> ||SPOILERS END||
> 
> Please read “how could I stop caring?” before reading this so that it makes more sense! Hope you enjoy!!
> 
> warning: sexual implications

“Why do I think about you when I know you’re not here?” The question was meant to be rhetorical, Dream saying it in pity for himself, but the figure nestled against him moved.

“The idea of me is comforting, I guess.” The figure said, a hint of laughter in his voice. Dream didn’t share in that laughter.

“Why does it feel like I’m never going to have you again?” Dream asked. His heart beat rapidly when George’s giggles filled the room, his chest growing warm.

“I was never yours, Dream.” He smiled. Dream grumbled.

“You’re mine now.” He muttered.

“You’re not here.” George retorted.

“I wanna be.”

“So come home.”

Dream paused, letting silence fall between them. “I can’t.”

George pushed. “Why not?”

“ _George._ ”

“I’m serious. You’ve been gone for weeks.”

Dream didn’t answer him, instead talking over his head, as if he were willing for the real George to hear him. “...I feel you,” he breathed, “Next to me.”

“You’re next to me, too.” The George in his bed responded.

“I can taste your skin, I can hear your heartbeat, I feel your lips on my chest.” Dream continued wistfully. George shifted.

“Are you going to leave them there?” He asked, lips brushing against his skin as he spoke, smile sly.

Dream chuckled. “I want to.” He replied honestly.

“You…” George drew out the word, making Dream feel the need to give him a reply.

“I miss you.” Dream said, voice going sweet.

“So come home to me.” George murmured softly, comforting to Dream in a sad, selfish way. Dream could pretend George cared so much about him, like this. That George cared more than _he_ did.

“I can’t.” Dream sighed.

“Why not?” George was relentless.

“I _can’t._ ” Dream scowled, pulling away just enough to meet his eyes. “You feel too real, you’re so annoying.” Dream scolded him, and George met his gaze with deep, knowing brown eyes.

“You’ve let me under your skin, Dream. You’re _letting me_ affect you.” He pointed out.

Dream let out a strangled groan. “ _George._ ” It was too early for this, Dream was hardly awake.

“I touch you and you are mine.” George’s hands drifted up his sides, and Dream suppressed the shiver that ghosted up his spine, feeling as if he’s about to burn up at the touch. “I claim you and you are mine. I kiss you and you are mine for _eternity._ ” George rested his chin on his chest. “ _You cannot leave me, Dream, and I can’t leave you._ ”

Dream softened at the words, even knowing it was all fake. George’s hands tightened on his sides and Dream buried his nose in his hair. He drowned, sinking in the rest of this fantastical George he had left, wishing he were real, wishing that the warmth he’d imagined _were_ George, cuddled beneath him. That George felt the same way.

The dream faded, and he was awake. He moved in his bed, empty and cold. He hated this house, he decided. He wanted George to live here with him. He could picture George’s arms around his waist as he cooked for them, wearing his sweaters to brave the cold. And he wanted George to follow him everywhere he went, tailing him as he used to on their adventures, but he couldn’t.

George was too much. The more Dream kept him out of danger, the more Dream hid him away, the less Dream would waste time worrying about his safety. Dream could not afford to have George weigh him down more than he already did. And Dream refused to admit he was possessive or protective of George.

George’s laughter was for _him._

George’s hugs were for _him._

George’s kisses were for _him._

George’s nights were _his._

Dream sat up in bed, cursing himself for being so obsessed.

It had been three weeks since George came back to them. An unfortunate set of circumstances for sure, no matter how happy Dream was to have him back. He didn’t think Sapnap would stoop that low. Quackity’s betrayal on the other hand, Dream understood. Quackity only acted for himself, regardless of his relationships. After all, he had been seeing Schlatt only to fight against him in a war in two weeks’ time, betraying George’s friendship would have been much easier. Dream had no doubt it was _his_ plan that sacrificed George.

It was easier to put all the blame on Quackity instead of accepting that Sapnap, Dream’s best friend for years, willingly put George in harm’s way.

So George was on the Dream SMP’s side.

The first week Dream had stayed by George’s side as he healed, gladly keeping him company in Bad’s basement before he had to leave again. Especially when most of his stay involved cuddling George, holding George, eating with George…

They were making up for lost time.

George had wasted away with people who didn’t care about him unless they wanted to use him, while Dream, who cared too much, had been meddling in politics on his own, on the opposite side of wherever George was. And needless to say, both forgave one another no matter what disputes they had before. They couldn’t afford any venom between the two of them anymore.

The first week came and went, and the bruises began to fade and his ribs melded together. And soon the stitches went, too. It was one night where they had been sitting in Bad and Skeppy’s living room for drinks, catching George up on all that he’d missed, what with the prison, and more, when Bad suddenly suggested taking his stitches out.

George had been sitting pressed up against Dream on a couch, cheeks rosy with the effect of the alcohol, content and safe with those around him to the drink to the point of _tipsy,_ and he had no reason to refuse Bad. Dream thought he was adorable.

And it showed.

George sat as still as possible, both hands clutching a drink and arm flush against Dream’s as Bad clipped the wire from his face. The rest of the room fell silent, watching Bad as he worked before their eyes fell to George, and then to Dream, looking at George as if he were his world. There was an obvious fondness with the way Dream tilted his head toward George, unmoving, leaning against him. They couldn’t see Dream’s face underneath the mask, couldn’t see exactly what he was thinking, but some had known him for enough years to recognize the subtleties.

They saw _everything._

When Bad finished, George took his head off of Dream’s shoulder and sat up jubilantly. He turned his head to the side so that Dream could see his right cheek, excitedly running his hand over his own jaw.

“How does it look?”

“Great.” Dream replied softly, and turned in surprise when he heard Ant chuckle from across the room. George hadn’t noticed, still looking happily at Dream as he felt at the irritated skin.

Sam and Ant were poking fun at them, grinning mischievously. Dream could see it in their faces; he had gone too far, his affections were too apparent. The flirting wasn’t a long-running joke anymore. And George, never known for being a physical person, had been clinging to him the entire night.

“You are _whipped._ ” Sam mouthed at him, and both Ant and Ponk began to laugh, before everyone seemed to be in on the joke, staring at them.

It was that obvious.

“What? What happened?” George asked blearily, paling as he realized he had the attention of the room. He turned to Dream. “What’d I do?” 

“Nothing, I just realized I’m actually in love with you.” Dream replied simply with a shrug, pretending the words didn’t have the weight they did, settling heavily on George’s chest. Sam whooped at them, everyone else joining in, while George gawked at Dream, his cheeks pink. Dream shrugged again, and George shoved him.

“I’m just being honest.” Dream chuckled and George shook his head, a smile playing on his lips. They looked blood red in the lighting, and Dream had to consciously flick his eyes up to meet his gaze. George was so pretty. George was so pretty for _him._

“I know you are.” 

“So why don’t you show them you feel the same way?” Dream teased, throwing his arms over the back of the couch. George looked at him.

Dream wasn’t expecting a comeback.

“Maybe I will.” George replied lowly, and Dream felt his heart drop to his stomach when George rose, bringing his leg up under him so that he had enough leverage to lean over Dream and put his drink down on the table. Dream held his breath, watching wide eyed to try and figure out what George was planning, hovering over him. George had never been this forward, never had a comeback to Dream’s endless one liners and teases, and Dream was enraptured, the anticipation threatening to make him short-circuit. George’s hand pressed against his chest.

When he moved to straddle him, thighs on either side of Dream’s hips, it was _over._

The whooping turned into screaming, George pushing Dream’s mask aside as if it were an afterthought. Dream couldn’t help himself, arms detaching from the back of the couch and falling to George’s sides, large hands clutching at his shirt as he stole the rest of Dream’s breath away. 

George’s hands cupped his jaw, tilting it up, kissing Dream to the brink of death. He tasted of cherry and cheap alcohol, but Dream loved every minute of it. He was subservient to whatever George wanted, abiding and opening his mouth when George dragged his tongue across his bottom lip, abiding and tilting his head further to the side to give him more when George’s hands cut through his hair and pulled. It couldn’t have lasted longer.

They have had kisses like this in the last week, but they had been hushed and in private, the door locked and late into the night for no one to see. There was something about doing it in front of friends that mattered more, making out like this. No matter what they may have said before, brushing off any questions of their relationship status, it _wasn’t a secret anymore._ Their friends had to come to the realization that, no, they weren’t dreaming, and yes, _this was real._ Dream and George, after endless years of flirting and banter, were making out on Bad’s couch.

George pulled away and his eyes went wide with disbelief when he realized what he’d done, sealing their fate. Dream stared up at him with the same shock, not registering all the yelling and the questions being thrown at them one after another, everyone in the room vying for an explanation. George blinked down at him in awe.

He wearily turned over his shoulder, color heating up his neck immediately at the sight of everyone staring. Dream didn’t think he’d ever seen him so embarrassed, George physically cowering away from all the cheering. It wasn’t until he had another beer shoved in his hand and that their friends started a toast for the new “couple” that he began to ease, falling under the crook of Dream’s arm for the rest of the night to stay before following him downstairs and to his room as everyone started to disperse and take their leave.

Dream left two days later.

He had convinced himself that these stakeouts were necessary. Of course, he made use of the house Puffy had made for him to keep up appearances, but with everyone out to get him all the time it was better he spent most of his days in hiding. He had no idea what L’Manberg was planning and only had a small glimpse of what Technoblade’s plans looked like. Not showing his face unless he needed to was safer for everyone involved. Less innocent casualties on both sides. George, he considered, was a “casualty.” He’d been manipulated into acting as a hostage, and he’d suffered the consequences from it. He refused to believe George had any fault in what had happened. And the whole point of the hostage situation had been to lure _him._ If Dream stayed in the Dream SMP all the time, where everyone could see him or know where he was, how often would he get attacked? How often would more of his friends get attacked?

But he thought that two weeks was enough time spent away. Three weeks in total after confessing to George, three weeks in total since Quackity, Sapnap, and Karl have been on the run.

With new resolve Dream started moving. He always traveled light and all he had to do to lock up the house was hide a few things behind hidden doors, climb out of a trapdoor in his ceiling, and then shovel the entrance with snow. Typically Dream hated this part. He would be back in a week give or take anyway, and then have to do the same routine again but backward. But at the thought of something to actually live for, now that George was tangible and his, he realizes he may not mind now as much as he did before.

He shovels the snow in silence.

\--

Dream walked along the prime path as if he had never left. He passed people and waved, walked through L’Manberg and saw Tubbo who greeted him with a smile, however strained it may have been. He must have known that Quackity being on the run didn’t look good for them. Dream didn’t blame Tubbo for it, though. He was seventeen and a president of an entire country, more than half of them irresponsible fools, Tubbo was bound to break eventually. That wasn’t Dream’s fault, though.

He glanced up to look at El’ Rapids, still not cleaned from when they had searched for any leads as to where Quackity, Sapnap, and Karl had fled. Dream remembered having cuddled George into sleep before leaving with the others, personally bringing his elbow down on their front door’s lock and breaking into his friend’s house. He tore through everything, papers, notebooks, records. He remembered scowling at a photo on Quackity’s desk, pocketing it.

Dream continued walking.

The rest of the land was quiet. Dream didn’t see anyone from the Dream SMP or the Badlands, but he paid little mind to it. People were busy, he understood that. All he wanted was George, anyway. He was just about to open the door to Bad’s house when Bad practically barrelled into him, yelping in surprise. They stood for five seconds staring at one another before Bad cleared his throat. Looking over his shoulder inside, Dream realized where the rest of the members of the Badlands and the Dream SMP had been.

“Hey, Bad. What’s going on?” 

“Skeppy just got back,” He said out of breath, as if he were in a rush. “We know where they are.”

“Quackity?”

Bad nodded. “Yes. We were just getting ready to leave and go get them.” Dream hesitated at his words.

“Where’s George?”

“Oh, Sam was just showing him around the prison. You can probably find him there!” Bad said with a gesture of his shoulder. Dream took no note of the way Bad’s smile went infinitely wider at his question.

“You’re not leaving yet, are you? I’d like to go with you.”

“Oh, no. I was just going to go tell Sam to get the prison ready just in case. But you can do that, can’t you?”

Dream raised a brow with a grin. “Sure, Bad.” 

Dream was glad for Bad’s leadership in his absence, even if Bad’s allegiance was technically with himself rather than Dream. To put it bluntly, he’s thankful for the small alliance they have, even if that alliance was formed through bribery. “I’ll be back in a minute.” Dream said.

Bad ducked back into his house, full of people, as Dream began to cut across his backyard. He’s glad they didn’t build the prison far away. Already from where he was standing Dream could make out two silhouettes just by the entrance, sitting atop a fence. He couldn’t stop the smile cutting across his face when he recognized that George was one of the two, talking to Punz. Dream sure as hell liked George in his sweaters and sweatpants, and how he drowned in the oversized clothing, but there’s a large part of him that loves how George looks covered in armor, with a bow and quiver slung across his shoulders and a sword attached at his hip. This was the George Dream was more familiar with, and the one he’d fallen in love with.

When George spotted him across the lawn, he smirked. Dream didn’t hesitate to close the space between them, not slowing his stride as he slid between George’s legs, reaching up with gloved hands to cradle his jaw from where he was still sitting on the fence. George made a pleased, happy noise and Dream melted, chirping back. Punz choked out laughter and turned away with a start, throwing up a hand in a futile attempt to block it out, an exasperated smile on his face.

George’s hands were tight on his sweater, Dream only able to pull away far enough so that his nose was pressing into George’s chin, George kissing at his temple. Dream looked over at Punz with a sly smile and half-lidded eyes, apologizing to him with a snicker before George pulled him in for another.

Punz scoffed at them with a roll of his eyes, dropping his hand in defeat. “Just something I’ll have to get used to,” He grinned, and shook his head again when he saw that they weren’t paying him any attention. “You came back sooner than I thought, Dream.” He said, and Dream finally pulled away for good, hands dropping to rest atop of George’s thighs.

“Well, there was someone I had to come home to,” He smiled, and George beamed at him. He turned to Punz, clearing his throat. “And I wanted an update on the others. Bad just told me Skeppy has intel on where they might be.”

“Already?” Punz asked. Dream had no time to answer, all three of them snapping to attention at the sound of footsteps.

“Oh, hey Dream!” Sam called out to them, peering out from the nether portal inside. Dream nodded to him, and rolled his eyes at Sam’s mischievous smile when he saw how close both he and George were.

“Sam, is the prison ready?” Dream asked.

He realized that this wasn’t a friendly call, that Dream was here on business. “Is it ready?” Sam repeated, coming to a stop. “For like, _people?_ ”

“Bad says Skeppy knows where they are. If we find them today, the prison might be put into use. Bad and the others are getting ready to leave now.” He said, turning to Punz, who nodded grimly, wordlessly agreeing he would go along with Dream.

Sam crossed his arms. “What wing of the prison would you like to send them?” He asked seriously, all smiles he had before gone. 

“I want Quackity in wing C. Throw the others in A, for now.”

“You want Quackity in the high security cell?” Sam asked, and Dream didn’t move.

“I don’t want him to have any contact with the others.” He said with a pause. George tugged on his sleeve. “I want to believe that Sapnap and Karl are innocent. I don’t want Quackity screwing up their statements.”

“You think Quackity’s the mastermind?” Punz asked, and Dream nodded.

“When isn’t he? It’s always Quackity pulling all the strings.”

Sam glanced his prison up and down, mind working perpetually. “Are you guys leaving now?”

“We should be.” Dream said with a glance at Punz, and George frowned, tugging harder at his sleeve.

“I’m going too.” George declared, and Dream whipped around to face him. A tense silence fell over them, and George’s face twisted into a pout. “ _What._ “

“You’re not going.” Dream said, and George whined, brows furrowing.

“Why not?”

“It’s not safe,” Dream murmured possessively, pretending for his own sanity that Punz and Sam would not remember him like this. “And it might be a good idea if they don’t know you’re okay. It might guilt them into confessing in questioning.” He explained and George wilted at the thought. The last few weeks he had spent trying to _forget_ just how close he was to dying. It seemed his performance had been more convincing than he thought. He dropped his eyes, and Dream accepted it as agreement. Sam finally cleared his throat and broke the silence.

“I’ll go prepare the cells. Good luck, men.” Sam said and Dream nodded to him as he disappeared back inside, stepping away from George to let him hop off the fence. The three of them began to head off toward Bad’s house, George bumping against Dream’s shoulder.

George said nothing.

The walk was silent, and Dream inhaled as he opened the door to Bad and Skeppy’s house, bracing himself for the slew of people inside. There were six in total, the entire room drowned in gleaming netherite armor and tools. George pressed tighter against his side, and Bad called them over to where Skeppy had a map spread on a table.

“They should be around here,” Skeppy said, pointing a couple thousand blocks away from where they were. “We should be able to make it tomorrow night. We travel as far as we can tonight, sleep during the day, and then we should be able to jump them maybe a hundred blocks from their last known location.” He glanced up to face Dream’s mask. “They aren’t moving very fast.”

“Perfect,” He turned around to the group of people behind him, waiting obediently for his command. “We leave in five. Take these last few minutes to prepare before we head out. We will be traveling for three days.” He announced and everyone dispersed, grabbing last minute supplies and raiding Bad’s cabinets to his dismay. In minutes, Dream found himself outside, George stood beside him.

He was home only to leave again, and he could sense George’s disappointment. It wasn’t like Dream was any happier about it, but considering he was most of their force and had the most experience, especially considering they were trying to capture _Sapnap,_ it wasn’t something he could pass up just because he wanted.

Bad began to count heads, taking note of who was coming along. “Are we all ready to leave?”

George pulled on his arm, and Dream turned to face him.

“Don’t die.” George murmured, unable to look up at him, and Dream grinned.

“I won’t, George.”

George met his gaze with fire in his eyes. Dream felt himself light aflame. “I’m serious. If you die, I don’t know what I’d do with myself.”

Dream pursed his lips. “I’ll come home.”

“You promise?”

Dream softened. “Yes.”

He leaned down and kissed him, silencing the heat pooling in his stomach with want, pulling George close for the last time in what would be a while again. This was painful. _George_ was painful. Dream was convinced that he hated this, that he hated that George could do this to him. The George of his dreams was right. Dream couldn’t afford to leave him, and it was Dream’s fault.

It was selfish of him to take such priority over George, to change his plans according to him. But Dream couldn’t help it. It was pitiful. Dream was kicking himself over it. How could he stop though when he remembered how good George was to him, how he had seen him at his worst and helped him so much. Maybe the pain _was_ worth it.

Dream filed into line behind Bad and Skeppy, bickering over who should hold the map and what course of direction would be best. There was a hollow weariness in Dream’s walk. He was prickling with anticipation, but he couldn’t help the dread that settled in his stomach.

This was supposed to be easy. It was supposed to just be the Dream SMP. No countries, no nations, everyone living in harmony. Now there were factions and political parties at every turn, all of which only wanting to start war and cause destruction. Being too nice had gone to hell. He hadn’t murdered Tommy and Wilbur in cold blood when L’Manberg first declared independence. He could have done it; he could have taken all three of their lives in a heartbeat. He could have done it if it meant everyone would be happy and not at each other's throats, betraying one another all the time.

He worked for all of this for what? For people to tear it down, for people to be selfish, for people to be greedy? Was it all hopeless anyway, did he even want to rule over this damned land anymore? Men nipped at his heels and beat him down without relent. Dream could grit his teeth and bare. Of course he could. But when it was overwhelming, when it kept him up at night, when he looked in the mirror and couldn’t find one part of his body not littered with scars, when he sobbed because he loved too much and didn’t have the power to help, when he didn’t have that control...

Several blocks down the prime path, Dream turned over his shoulder. George stood alone, watching them leave. He caught Dream’s glance and waved, and Dream bit down the rest of his thoughts. He found himself waving back, heart thrumming with a dull ache. George smiled, and Dream held himself straighter, turning back around.

Maybe George was worth his pain.


	2. Quackity I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quackity, Sapnap, and Karl are on the run. But it can't last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> weekly updates pog? y'all I hope so. this is so far from the main plot but bro my need for george to be in the plot is too strong and so we are left with this. man really said "just say you hate me" to Dream and then dipped EXCUSE ME???? WE LET HIM DO THAT AND GET AWAY WITH IT?
> 
> anyway hope you enjoyed i plan to go really hard with the karlnapity in this fic so :)) and there is going to be lots of dnf obvi
> 
> hope you enjoy!! :)
> 
> WARNINGS: Starvation, Lots of peril, There is an Anxiety/Panic attack

_“What’s it called? Is it called a polyamorous relationship? We can have that.”_

_“--I don’t even know how to say that word.”  
“A polyamorous relationship!”_

—

“You need to eat.”

Quackity shook his head, drawing his knees closer to his body and sliding his hands into the insides of his sleeves. He tiredly met his eyes.

“ _Quackity._ ” Sapnap was leaning close to him, holding out a piece of meat for him. It was hardly anything; Sapnap had gone out to hunt for them while Quackity and Karl passed out after walking for miles, and was only able to return with a small rabbit, hardly grown. And now he was giving it to Quackity.

It was their own fault they ended up running into a desert, and even more that they had been nonstop. Resources were thin. So Sapnap was exhausted, taking it upon himself to do as much as possible no matter how fucked and sleep-deprived it left him.

He’d asked for first watch on night one and then refused to wake Karl and Quackity for their watches.

“It’s fine, I’m not hungry. You need it more than I do,” At Sapnap’s glare, Quackity added, “And I ate this morning.” Sapnap held his eyes for a moment longer before giving up altogether, flinging himself backwards and landing on his makeshift pillow—out of his pack—with a huff. With a lazy arm he held the rabbit out to Karl, who had been sitting close to the fire filtering the pittance of water they’d miraculously found.

They were lucky to find this cave, too. It was pretty well hidden, considering all that surrounded them was sand. And besides, the ache of an empty stomach and a dry tongue were more annoying than all of the granules of sand in their shoes and clothes. And then they would be on the move again.

“I say we head more toward the west. There should be rivers that way if I remember correctly.” Karl said.

“Sure.” Sapnap replied, and they slipped into silence again.

They hadn’t talked or had a real conversation since before the hostage situation. There was nothing to talk about. And no one wanted to breach the topic of George, and how he wasn’t fourth-wheeling them anymore. And may never again.

“You guys should get some sleep. I’ll take the first watch.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Quackity turned away from them and moved to sit closer to the entrance so that he could only see past the wall of the cave, still hidden from the wind. Behind him, Karl abided to the suggestion and stopped filtering water, pushing his makeshift jugs he’d made out of trash he’d found aside. He fit himself under Sapnap’s arm, desperately trying to get warm so he could pass out. Contrary to popular belief, deserts weren’t hot. Not at night, especially.

Quackity went tighter around himself.

They needed a plan. They needed a plan. _They needed a plan._

They couldn’t keep running forever, he needed to figure out something to get them out of this mess. But who could he turn to? Who hasn’t betrayed them yet? The page of his book of possibilities was empty. The only people Quackity knew of that weren’t involved with the Dream SMP and L’Manberg were Tommy and Technoblade, and they saw how that had gone down.

The plan was a success. Quackity _had_ figured Dream out. He just lacked the confidence to press his demands. That didn’t even _sound_ like him. More often than not he would be loudly stating opinions, loudly debating with whoever was on the other side. But then there was Technoblade, viciously smart and strong. Quackity caved. He was a fool to believe he had the upper hand, foolish to consider Tommy and Techno, the ones who caused the most pain to the server, as partners. He dug his grave with that one. And in a literal sense, he dug the grave of another.

Quackity pursed his lips, willing himself to keep his eyes open. If he wanted to survive, if he wanted _Sapnap and Karl_ to survive, he needed to figure something out. If Dream didn’t want to murder him before, he was good as dead now.

He handed over a _disc_ to _Tommy._

Dream didn’t just _do_ that.

And the very reason he’d handed it over was gone because of _him._

Quackity was fucked. He couldn’t just go back into the Dream SMP and not expect to be shot down on sight. Not when Dream was probably throwing a goddamn tantrum. If he wanted any chance of _not dying,_ he had a feeling he’d have to wait a year before showing his face again.

That was terrifying.

Everything he had worked for. The positions he’d fought for in L’Manberg and El’ Rapids, gone. It has been three weeks since they’ve been home, and the thought of Dream going through all of their shit and destroying everything was painfully vivid to the point where he felt sick thinking about it.

Would they ever get to go home?

Had he really pulled Karl and Sapnap into this mess, all to get back at Dream?

Did they deserve that?

Did they deserve… _him?_

Quackity suddenly jumped, whipping around. He searched with wide eyes to no avail.

_He heard something._ He had heard a creaking noise, a crossbow. He had heard it, right? He wasn’t dreaming? He was _awake,_ wasn’t he? He went still, straining his ears to see if he could hear anything more.

Cursing under his breath he forced himself to peek further out of the cave, slowly raising his head.

He moved a beat to his right, narrowly avoiding an arrow, whistling by his head.

He screamed and ducked back into the cave, rushing over on his knees to shake his partners awake. He muttered curse after curse, seeing nothing but red as suddenly he heard footsteps pounding toward them, along with netherite armor clanking and other crossbows being drawn.

Sapnap shoved him aside, pushing himself to his feet and grabbing his axe. Quackity cowered behind him, relishing in Sapnap’s passing protection as he pulled himself together. He held a lot of love and respect for him, for what he did. Sapnap didn’t have to fight tooth and nail for him, didn’t have to throw himself right between he and danger, but he did anyway. For the first time in his life, Quackity felt like he was loved and the feeling was dreadful.

“You have twenty seconds to come out or we take you by force.” 

“Dream, we’re not going anywhere. Let us go.” Sapnap demanded, and Quackity could tell he was nervous, voice trembling and pitching. Quackity looped his arm through his.

“We can’t do that. You have committed crimes against the SMP and must be held accountable.”

“Taking us in because of our _crimes?_ You mean what _Technoblade_ did?” Sapnap retorted, and Quackity squeezed. He was so thankful for him.

“Plead your case in court. We’re taking all of you into custody.” 

“ _Dream._ ”

“Ten.”

Quackity and Karl exchanged a glance, and Quackity looked him up and down. While he had been standing with Sapnap, Karl had gathered as much as he could into their packs behind them. To make a break for it.

“Nine.”

“Do we…” Quackity breathed, eyes darting from Karl to Sapnap to the packs. Adrenaline was pumping through him without cease, pushing him to be impulsive. Could they get out like this? Could they run? Karl pursed his lips.

“Eight.”

Sapnap turned around to see what was happening, and his face went more pale than it already was. He shook his head quickly.

“Seven.”

“No. _No,_ no fucking way. They’ll drop us the second we make a run for it.”

“Six.”

Karl mumbled under his breath. “But we have armor. It wouldn’t—it wouldn’t hurt a lot…”

“Five.”

“ _Fuck!”_ Sapnap shouted, grabbing Karl’s hands and squeezing, yanking him closer. “No, _I’m not letting you—_ ”

“Four.”

“I’m not letting _either of you_ take this goddamn chance when we are _certain to—_ ”

“Three.”

“I love you,” Quackity blurted, cutting him off, tears pooling into his eyes. He felt so stupid, how was he getting so worked up? Why was he letting himself fall apart like this? “I love you guys so much.” His voice broke.

“Two.”

“Stop saying that like we’re never going to see each other again!”

Quackity felt Sapnap’s arms around him and Karl’s head on his back, and then knew nothing else. He heard their voices one last time, and everything faded to black.

“We love you too.”

“ _One._ ”

—

The ground beneath him was made out of tough, dark rock. His head throbbed with the aftermath from what were blindness and nausea potions, and he groaned as he forced himself to sit, hands slipping clumsily at the sharp rock.

He winced, opening his eyes, and paused.

Where the fuck was he?

Wide awake, Quackity sat up with a start. Three walls, the ceiling, and floor all made out of obsidian. He turned over his shoulder and felt his heart drop at the wall of lava taunting him, bubbling right in front of him.

“No,” Quackity choked, stumbling to his feet and catching himself on the sink. “No. No, no no _no nononono._ ” 

He had to be dreaming. This wasn’t real. 

“Hello?” He called out, voice trembling. He swallowed it down. “Is anyone there?” He asked louder, and was terrified to get no response. It was suffocatingly quiet, and Quackity had no sense of where he was, no tense of time. 

He didn’t care to look at the clock on the wall but instead stumbled forward, walking along the wall until he passed over the netherite blocks and stood just beside the lava. The heat was searing, he felt burned even without touching it. Why did he want to?

“Hello?” He called again, getting no response. “Hello? Hello? _Hello_?”

He didn’t realize he’d been screaming until he heard the clicks of repeaters in the distance, and the lava began to drain in front of his eyes. None of this he could acknowledge, though, caving in on himself. He felt as if he were seeing black. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t real. _This wasn’t real._

“Quackity? Can you hear me?”

Quackity looked up at the voice, an entire foot taller than he was. His mouth opened and he couldn’t say anything.

“Ok, ready?” Sam grabbed his hand, and Quackity was too weak to try and pull away. He forced his palm to his chestplate of netherite. “You feel that?”

Quackity nodded hesitantly, blinking confused. Sam took it in stride and continued.

“That’s my heartbeat. And let’s breathe together, okay? Can you breathe with me Quackity?”

“...yeah.” He mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut, struggling to focus. Sam tutted, and he opened his eyes again.

“What do you see? And what colors are they?”

“I… I see obsidian, it’s purple. Lava’s orange and you’re… you’re wearing green.” Quackity mumbled a little louder, and he caught his breath. He looked up at Sam nervously, who simply smiled down at him.

“Are you feeling a little better now?”

Quackity breathed in and out on his own, retracting his hand. “I think so. I need a minute.” He slowly sat down and Sat followed suit across from him, precariously balancing a trident on his thigh. 

“I have all the time in the world.” Sam said, and cleared his throat. “I can answer any questions that you may have.”

Quackity regarded him with unease, willing his heart to steady. He glared around the room, and could already tell he was going to grow sick of this place if he stayed any longer.

“Where… where are,” he swallowed, wringing his hands in his lap. “Where are Karl and Sapnap?”

“They’re also being held here, in the main part of the prison. You’re in the maximum security cell.” Sam replied, and Quackity frowned.

“Why am I here?”

“Why are you in _prison?_ ” Sam asked him, and Quackity nodded. “You’ve committed crimes.”

“You can’t just arrest me if you _think_ I was behind everything.” Quackity pointed out.

“Yes we can. It’s called probable cause, Quackity.”

“Fine, then am I at least allowed a lawyer? To, you know, get me out of the highest fucking security cell? And, you know, _prison?_ ”

Sam shrugged, adjusting the gas mask on his face. “We figured you’d want to represent yourself.” He admitted, and Quackity narrowed his eyes.

“Who the hell is _we?_ ”

“Dream and I.” Sam said, and tilted his head to the side. “That reminds me, Dream is stopping by tomorrow.”

Quackity bit down on his lip. “...why?”

“A trial will be held. Dream wants to get your point of view on what happened. That way, you might end up a free man.”

“He’s interrogating me?” Quackity deadpanned, and Sam sighed.

“Call it whatever you want. I stand on the side of justice, wherever that is.” Sam said, and moved to push himself to his feet. Quackity remained seated, meeting the man’s eyes.

“Am I allowed visitors? Or, or a call?” He didn’t know who in their right mind would visit or call him right now, beside Tubbo or Fundy, but it was worth asking. Just how lenient did they plan to be?

“Until Dream and I deem it appropriate, no.” Sam slid his tridents into the harness on his back. “Do what we ask tomorrow, and the punishment will fit the crime.”

Quackity nodded, scowling as he turned away. If it weren’t for Dream, this would probably be going a lot smoother. There was no telling how much longer he’d be trapped here. This was not a good thing, considering that technically he _was_ guilty for a few things.

“Alright, well. If that’s all, I’ll be leaving now. There’s food in the chest.” Sam said with a curt nod, and Quackity paused for a minute, Sam halfway out of the cell, before stopping him.

“ _Sam—_ wait.”

“Yes?”

“Is George… did George make it out okay?”

Quackity didn’t know what he expected. Maybe it was because Sam had always been so nice, maybe it was because Quackity had no idea where he stood with anyone, but when Sam turned away without another word, disappearing with lava following, Quackity realized he wanted nothing more than an answer. Something _stable_ he could rely on, something he knew to be true.

He gaped helplessly at where Sam had left, realizing what this had meant. For the first time in months he would be alone with his thoughts. No one to console him, no one to distract him, just his thoughts, tempting him.

It was his worst nightmare.

\--

_“Uh, realistically and jokes aside, I think serving next to Schlatt as a vice president taught me a lot of important things in the world. More importantly, a side of him that I don’t think many of you really knew. But if there’s one thing I could say about Schlatt is that… AYY That motherfucker’s dead! Let’s gooo!_

_His heart is within me now, haha! Let’s go, he’s dead!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to find me at kixyme on Twitter and Instagram or kix-yme on Tumblr, I’d love to talk to you! For a quick link to my social media, click the link in my profile.
> 
> Have a great day! :)


	3. George II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream visits Quackity at the Prison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya this took me super long to write, it's almost all plot,,, there will be more fluff in the next chapters I promise!!
> 
> Quick warning, Dream kind of gets aggressive and scary so please mind the tags!! Hope you enjoy!

Dream was tense, closing the door as quietly as possible. The knob clicked into place and he sighed, slowly pulling his hand away. Another night spent in Bad’s basement, another day spent sneaking out so he wouldn’t be questioned or bothered.

“Dream.”

He whipped around, murder in his eyes.

“Punz, _shh._ ” Dream whispered, putting a finger to his mask. Punz raised a brow and shoved his hands into his pockets, an incredulous look in his eye.

“He's still asleep?” Punz asked, and Dream started forward to brush by him.

“He likes to sleep in, you know that.” He led Punz up the stairs and out of Bad’s house, and turned on him suspiciously. “Why are you here?”

“I wanted to talk to you before you visited the prison.” He said, and Dream hummed, feigning innocence.

“What about?”

“Well, to be straight up: your plan. Things have changed, Dream.” He lowered his voice as they passed someone, cutting through Bad’s yard like Dream had done a few weeks ago. “Do you still plan to disappear like you said?”

Dream paused. “...I don’t know, yet.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? That’s kind of important.” Punz muttered, and Dream could sense the look on his face.

“I mean I haven’t thought about it.”

Punz raised a brow. “Does George… know about the plan?”

“No.” Dream muttered. “No, he can’t know. This stays between us.”

“You plan to keep all of this from him? Still? Aren’t you guys like, I don’t know, promised to one another and everything? Honesty, loyalty, and love or some shit? You need to catch him up.”

“Punz.”

“You can’t keep him in the dark forever, man. _I won’t ask_ what the hell you’re planning, but if you walk out on George one day without telling him anything you’re just as bad as his ex-husband,” He paused, pointedly meeting his eye. “I won’t forgive you if you do that to him, Dream.”

Dream screwed up his face. “God, Punz, I’ll fill him in soon. We _just_ got him back and right now what matters more is Quackity. Once I’m done with him and Sapnap we’ll figure out what to do. _Alright_?” Dream asked, crossing his arms. Punz sighed with a shrug.

“Sure, man. Whatever you say,” They arrived at the entrance, and Punz patted him on the back. “Enjoy your visit.” He said, and left Dream to stand alone. “And _tell him._ ”

\--

“It’s my prison, too.”

“I’m not letting you in if you don’t take off your armor, Dream,” When he didn’t move Sam added, “Safety hazard.”

“You’re serious.”

“Of course I am.” Sam said, and Dream rolled his eyes, detaching the plates from his arms. Sam watched wordlessly as Dream removed everything, closing the ender chest with a small click.

“Fine. Can we go now?”

“We’re going the long way.” Sam nodded, and Dream raised a brow.

“The long way? Why?”

“If we go the direct way, we’ll be passing Sapnap and Karl’s cells,” Sam turned to look at him over his shoulder. “I take it you probably don’t want to see them.” He said, and Dream turned away. “What do you plan to do once you get in the cell?”

“You already asked that.” The paperwork he’d had to sign going in was a lot, and anymore and he thought he’d die.

“That was for documentation. I’m asking again, as your friend.” Sam’s voice went sweet, and Dream felt a guilty sort of pang. He’s not sure why.

“I don’t plan to do anything. I’m going to make him come clean.”

“But what if it isn’t all his fault?” Sam asked, and Dream scoffed.

“Not Quackity’s fault? I find that hard to believe.”

“You never know, Dream,” Sam said, and Dream rolled his eyes. “You don’t think Tommy would try to do something like that?”

“No, because Tommy wouldn’t reach out to Quackity for help. He’d go crawling back to Tubbo before anyone else.” Sam didn’t respond, and he followed him the rest of the way in silence.

“Go stand over on there, Dream. I’ll be watching on security cameras, so just call when you need anything.

“...Thanks, Sam.”

“Good luck.”

Dream began to cross over the chasm of lava. Ahead, Quackity was watching him, sat leaning against a wall. Dream held his gaze and didn’t stop until the wall between them had dropped and lava began to fall around them.

“This is a nice place you’ve got here.”

Quackity glared up at him from where he was sitting. “I don’t want your pleasantries, Dream. Why are you here? To kill me?”

“There’s no reason to kill you, so no. That would be a waste.” Dream answered simply, and let his shoulders drop. He hadn’t realized how tense he was. “I just wanted to ask what happened.”

“I’m so glad that the person deciding whether I’m let out of this hellhole is someone who wants me gone.” Quackity snorted, and Dream hummed.

“You don’t have to make this difficult, Quackity. Tell me what happened, and this will all go a lot smoother.”

“I think what happened was pretty obvious. Technoblade knew that we were weak and used that to his advantage. He killed two birds with one stone; he got Tommy the discs and took down El’ Rapids, placing the blame on us.”

“You willingly went with Techno? Was there a deal? What would you even be getting out of that?”

Quackity’s face revealed nothing. “An alliance. We would do what Techno said as long as he left us alone and we were given independence.” That wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth. Dream’s glad the mask made him almost impossible to read.

“Techno willingly went to _you,_ before anyone else, just because he wanted _Tommy’s_ discs?”

“Yes.” They stared at one another in silence before Dream started forward.

He dropped into a crouch in front of him, and leaned close to his face. Quackity met his gaze with narrowed eyes. “You have the nerve to lie to my face after what you did?” Dream murmured, and Quackity shuddered.

“I’m telling the truth.” He said, voice rapidly losing confidence.

Dream’s voice went lower. “You want to keep lying to me? You want to lie to me as if I’d just let you get away with this?” He went impossibly closer, LED of the security camera blinking above them intermittently, silent.

“If beating the shit out of me will make you feel better, do it, Dream,” Quackity taunted, venom clear in his voice despite the slight tremble. “Do it you _fucking_ coward.”

Dream bought in without hesitation.

He grabbed him by the hair and slammed him against the blackstone behind him.

Quackity gasped, and Dream didn’t let go.

“You should think about what you say next, before I do something you actually regret.” Dream said, and Quackity nodded quickly. He let him go, and he moved to sit as far away as possible, terrified. Forgetting that Dream could be scary, forgetting that Dream _was_ scary to people he didn’t like, was a vast oversight. The fact that Dream likely only tolerated him all this time was dreadful, and was suddenly harshly cemented. “The truth. Now.”

Quackity said nothing.

“Do you need me to remind you that you’re not fighting for yourself anymore?” Dream pushed.

Quackity didn’t meet his eye.

“You think I don’t fucking get it? You think I don’t understand how it feels to have someone you care about at the mercy of someone else? You think I wouldn’t do _anything_ if it meant I could make them pay?” 

At the underlying threat, Quackity finally looked at him. He knew that Dream was mad with him, he just hadn’t gauged how much. He wasn’t ever at the direct wrath of Dream’s anger, that was Tommy’s job. He was beginning to understand why Tommy hated him so much.

“What happened to George?” Quackity demanded, and Dream leaned away.

“You tell me the truth _now,_ or I go visit Sapnap and Karl.”

Quackity went pale, any confidence before drained. “If I tell you the truth… you won’t hurt them?”

“Yes.” Dream paused and rose to his feet. “There is also a possibility I can convince Sam to allow you visitors. Other than _me._ ”

“Then tell them it was me.” Quackity breathed, gaze dropping to the floor. “I don’t care anymore. It was my idea all along. It was my idea to use George, it was my idea to get Technoblade on our side, it was all my fault.”

Dream stared. “Good.” 

Quackity looked up at him. “Please, Sapnap and Karl had nothing to do with it. Leave them out of it.”

“I’m still getting their testimonies. And maybe after we might allow you to talk to them.”

Quackity dropped his head into his hands, and Dream nodded to himself, feeling no need to try and comfort him.

“Well, that’s it for our visit. I’ll be seeing you soon.”

“Go to hell.” Quackity muttered, and Dream looked up into the security camera.

“I’m ready to go, Sam!”

Quackity said nothing else to him, and Dream didn’t care.

Dream didn’t care about anything. Dream wanted power, he wanted everyone to get along and stop fighting.

But Dream also wanted… George.

—

“The visit went well?”

“As good as it could have gone.” Dream sighed, looking down and to his side at George, walking beside him.

“What did he say?”

“He admitted to it. Everything.” George turned to look at him, eyes wide. “He said that it was his idea and that he had asked Techno for help. He took all the blame.”

“That’s…” George trailed off, eyes returning to the path ahead of them. “Insane.”

“It is.” Dream agreed. “He wanted to be honest, and didn’t want to drag Sapnap and Karl down with him.”

“I see.” George murmured, and Dream felt himself warm as George slotted his hand into his, intertwining their fingers. He squeezed and George chuckled, breath visible in the cold air.

It was late, Dream had been busy the entire day while George had been cooped up inside. At night it was easier to walk around, with no threats of George being found out. It probably wouldn't serve as too big of a deal if people out of their inner-circle realized he was still alive, but for the sake of the upcoming impending trials it was safer this way. George was safer this way.

“Why does it feel like I haven’t been here in ages?” George asked, petulant as they continued down the path, just passing by church Prime. “I only lived over the hill.” He complained, as if it wasn’t his fault.

“You didn’t miss much. You’ll get caught up soon.” Dream promised.

“Okay.” George nodded, letting the moment pass. He trusted Dream to tell him everything soon, even if at two in the morning wasn’t the time. Dream could hardly lie to him, and he grinned wider as Dream’s thumb swept across the bottom of his palm. The closeness they had now settled low and warm in his stomach, butterflies cooled down to a soft but ever present tremor.

“You should move in with me soon.” Dream murmured, and George hummed, voice dipping into the cadence of a tease.

“You think so?” George asked coyly, and Dream gave him a sideways look.

“Of course I think so,” he muttered before turning back to the path, cheeks dusted a dark color. “Having to live at Bad’s house is embarrassing.”

“I hardly see that as my fault.” George said, bumping his shoulder with his own, and Dream scowled.

“I’ll stop visiting.” He bit, sensing George was making fun of him.

“You like me too much.” George retorted, and when Dream didn’t have a comeback he let out a victorious laugh, squeezing his hand again. “You’re too easy to mess with.”

“Says you.”

“ _Hey._ ”

They walked further until they came to a stop where the path cut off toward L’Manburg, and sat on the bench there. Dream still felt that it was unreal to have George beside him again. To have George trust him again.

George had been convinced he’d hated him the whole time, and none of it was true. Dream loved nothing _but_ George, and even then after everything that happened he held a fondness for Sapnap, who had been his friend for longer.

George’s head dropped to his shoulder, and Dream planted a kiss into his hair. George fit himself closer, and Dream found himself going dizzy at the smell of shampoo and the burn of George’s body against his. The street lamps didn’t do him justice, and Dream wanted all of him.

“Would you _want_ to move in with me?” Dream asked, unable to let the subject drop. He was almost sure George fell asleep, resorting to rubbing at his back, before he answered.

“I miss my house.” He murmured, as if embarrassed by it.

“I know.” Dream said. His house was a cute little thing, away from all of the chaos _purposefully._ Dream couldn’t blame him, but when he was getting beat up all the time anyway what was the point? It was impossible to keep him safe when he was so far away like that. “I know it’s not the same, but we could build another one. We don’t have to move into mine, we could build one together.”

George was quiet for a minute, and Dream could sense the gears turning in his head. He kissed his hair again, and George let out a pleased sigh. “I’d like that, Dream.”

“Really?” Dream doesn’t mean for his voice to catch in his throat.

“Yeah.”

“Okay, then it’s done.” He said, and George raised his head to kiss him slightly, the angle awkward but flipping Dream’s insides nonetheless as his lips fell to his.

“God, I love you so much.” Dream said, heart aching as he said it and head drumming with a dull pain he chose to ignore. George grinned and kissed him again, hands fisting in his sweater. Dream held him closer, drinking in as much as he could before he…

Before he stopped.

“We should go.” 

Dream pushed him away and George inhaled sharply to catch his breath. His lips were bright red and gorgeous and Dream stood, offering him a hand.

“Sure. I’m tired anyway.” He yawned, fitting his hand in his again without another thought, collecting himself as they began to walk again. 

“You say that as if you don’t sleep all day.” Dream said, grimacing and clinging closer to George as he sidestepped a red vine cutting across their path.

“Shut up. I am not asleep all day,” He paused, brow furrowing. “And even if I _was,_ it’s not like I have much else to do. It’s like I’m under house arrest.” He muttered.

“You won’t be soon. After we’re done with El’ Rapids.”

“And why is that again?”

Dream looked at him, and George met his eyes, innocent and wide. Dream’s voice went dark, and George stared. “So they all learn not to mess with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to find me at kixyme on Twitter and Instagram or kix-yme on Tumblr, I’d love to talk to you! For a quick link to my social media, click the link in my profile.
> 
> Have a great day! :)


	4. Quackity II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream visits Sapnap at the prison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story’s picking up a little!! I have some chapters planned/written in advance but I have no idea how the story’s going to end yet… I read all comments so if you happen to have any ideas...
> 
> I wanted to note before you read really quickly that Sapnap mentions loving Dream, and that for the purpose of this fic it’s meant in a totally platonic way :)
> 
> Brief TW: Blood, cursing
> 
> Hope you enjoy and as always mind the tags!

George talked to no one. 

It was a little bit of a lie; he talked to Dream, he talked to Bad, and sometimes he talked to Punz, but that was only ever when someone visited him. Everyone was always busy all the time, and George, to put it lightly, was on glorified _house-arrest._

If Dream thought it best for him he’d do it, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t bored out of his mind. The room he was staying in wasn’t even meant to be a guest room; it was an emergency room of sorts where they had stockpiled medical equipment. George was overstaying his welcome, and was as sick of it as Skeppy probably was. Bad glady made him breakfast and dinner everyday, but that was beside the point.

Bored as he was, he did his best to stay inside. He never intentionally went looking for trouble. Bad and Skeppy’s house was far enough away from everything that it should’ve been good at keeping him away, but it wasn’t. 

George figured he’d spend his day outside. No harm in that, especially when he’d been cooped up for so long. He brought water and blankets with him, fully intending to fall asleep on the balcony off the back of their house just for some fresh air. He’d been living there long enough to know it was never used, and he wouldn’t be found out by anyone.

And so he lounged in a chair on their back balcony, taking in the vastness of the prison. Dream had left earlier that morning and was in there, and would come back to him soon.

George let his eyes shut, and gave himself time to contemplate. Dream was still a mystery to him, and despite how much he loved him he didn’t like it. All he knew was that Dream, no matter what, had his best interest in mind. That much was obvious. George wasn’t an idiot, he saw how much Dream went out of his way to protect him, no matter how embarrassing it was. All he wanted was to be on the same page. He wanted to know what Dream was thinking.

“Are you dead?”

He startled, sitting up rigid when he opened his eyes face to face with a transparent figure, hanging upside down in front of him.

Ghostbur seemed just as surprised, jumping back with a yelp at George’s sudden movement. He moved to hover just above the balcony in front of him.

George stared, heart dropping to his stomach. Wilbur— _Ghostbur_ —was not someone he was expecting to see. Having him here could in no way be good. George looked left and right to ensure they were alone.

“Hello! I didn’t mean to frighten you!” Ghostbur apologized, and George found his heart calm at the earnest apology. Truth be told he hadn’t had a conversation with Ghostbur yet. All he knew was the real Wilbur. “What were you doing?”

“I uh… I was taking a nap,” George stammered, steeling himself and collecting his wits. “Have we met?”

Ghostbur’s brows furrowed as if he were in deep thought, and his voice became tiny. “I’m not sure… I don’t remember too much!” He suddenly paused and leaned in closer, fretful. “Ack, sorry I’m an idiot! They told me not to talk to strangers; are you by chance a friend of Tommy’s?”

George swallowed. “I, um, used to be,” Thinking on his feet, he figured he may as well push his luck. “Have you talked to him recently?”

“Ah yes! I was just going to visit, but I thought exploring would be much more exciting! And now I’ve made a new friend. What’s your name?”

“George,” He said, and Ghostbur nodded furiously, as if he were physically committing it to memory. He figured it wouldn’t matter if Ghostbur said he were friends with him, George was technically dead too and could possibly be… a ghost. 

And it was another leap entirely if someone decided to just take Ghosbur’s word. George glanced toward the prison, and looked back at the man in front of him. His teeth sank into his lip. 

“I actually haven’t talked to Tommy or Technoblade in a long time. Would you mind telling me what they’ve been up to?” George asked. Ghostbur hesitated, and George added, “I love stories.” For being out of the loop so long, George would take what information he could get. He knew a thing or two about deception and bargaining to get what he wanted, and if he had to use it on a ghost with memory loss then so be it. It didn’t hurt to try.

Wilbur grinned at him and flew around in giddy circles, before landing down beside him. He pulled a notebook out of his pocket, and sat so he was shoulder to shoulder with George. He opened his book, all of the contents spilling out to him. George’s eyes flitted over the page, and he felt his stomach drop. “I’d love to!”

—

Dream didn’t want silence, so that was exactly what Sapnap planned to give him. Sam nodded to him and went on a spiel, letting Dream inside, but he didn’t listen. He wanted Dream to know that he was glaring. He wanted Dream to feel it burn, because it was all he could do to let him know of his rage.

When Sam left, Dream finally turned to him, only a few paces away. Neither wanted to break the silence, and Sapnap stubbornly wanted to win.

“I think you know why you’re here,” Dream started, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Why don’t you tell me what happened, and we can get you out of here.”

“Where are Quackity and Karl?”

“You’re not allowed to see them until we get their testimonies. And yours.”

Sapnap sighed, annoyed. He needed to talk to both for equally important reasons. Quackity, to figure out a plan for the way out of this hell, and Karl, because Karl needed him. Sapnap needed to _remind him,_ and not being there for any longer would fuck Karl up. He needed to play his cards right, and he had no patience for his dick best friend.

“What do you want me to say, that it was all Techno’s fault? That it was all my fault? I’m not telling you shit, Dream.”

“You’re not going to tell me anything?” Dream deadpanned, and Sapnap crossed his arms. “Do I need to remind you of what you did? What you did to us?”

“The hell do you mean _what I did?_ You were the one against us the whole time, we were doing what we had to. You're the asshole here, Dream.”

“You’re telling me _necessary_ is putting George in danger? Are you telling me _necessary_ is killing him?” Dream advanced on him, and Sapnap stood his ground.

“George wasn’t supposed to die. That was the whole point,” He muttered. He’d gone over these lines again and again in his head, he’d had time to go over what to say in the last two days. Sapnap pretended he was desensitized to it, keeping his voice from wavering. “The deal went wrong, and Technoblade acted for himself.”

“Ok, so who planned all of this?”

“ _I’m not going to tell you shit._ ” Sapnap repeated, and Dream stared.

“Why can’t you just say it was Quackity?”

“Why are you so certain that it was him?”

“I saw the photo and the papers on his desk.”

“So?”

“Sapnap, stop fucking around.”

“Why is Quackity in the max security cell, huh? Why the fuck is he being treated differently than me? Do you think you’re doing me a fucking favor Dream?”

“Stop being difficult. I’m trying to help you.”

“I think you’re trying to get my partner arrested because you think he’s a threat. Not to the server, but to _you_ personally. Because you’re a selfish _bitch._ ”

“You’re going to play this game?”

“I don’t see any game, Dream.”

“You’re lying to my face.”

“I’m not doing shit, dude.”

Silence.

“You forget who’s in prison and who’s not,” Dream murmured, and at his voice Sapnap met his eyes. “I could go visit Quackity or Karl _right now,_ Sap. I could show you the pain you gave me, and then maybe we’d be on the same—”

The right hook to his jaw was unexpected.

That was the difference between Sapnap and Quackity.

Dream reeled back, hand clutching at his face in surprise. He recovered quickly and didn’t think before throwing his own punch until he and Sapnap were shamelessly having a fist fight in the cell. Dream’s mask tumbled and he felt his lip split, Sapnap jammed his arm into the wall by his elbow when Dream pushed him, and the same continued. Blood splattered on the sink, on the blackstone, on their clothes.

Sam never came, and after minutes had passed they both scrambled away from one another, satisfied and worn with the damage they gave and received, retreating into their own corners to lick their wounds. They huffed to themselves, Dream securing his mask back into place and Sapnap retying his hair. They sat in silence, struggling to catch their breaths.

Both were littered in cuts and bruises, and Sapnap didn’t think he’d been so beat up in ages. He had no idea how much time had passed. Not having armor was a different perspective to fighting entirely, and reminded him of the older days. He looked up, and met Dream’s eyes. _The older days._

George, a cleric. Dream and Sapnap, the two dumbass adventurers George always spent his time healing, and, on some occasions, accidentally poisoning. They were a bunch of idiot teenagers with a hunger for freedom. And one day with a slew of their friends they simply ended up here, led by Dream. Dream, who had been Sapnap’s first friend and Dream’s him.

“ _What the fuck happened to us?_ ” Sapnap whispered, and Dream turned away.

“You need to tell me what happened three weeks ago.”

“I want _Karl,_ Dream. I want _Quackity._ And I’m not going to tell you shit until I know they’re alright.” He folded his hands in his lap and stared at them. “Things are different now. You won’t even _look_ at me, Dream. You’ve been against me from the start, and for what? For Tommy’s discs? You push me aside and expect me to still love you? You expect me to care?” Sapnap paused, screwing his eyes shut.

“Karl cares about me for me. Quackity cares about me for me. You’ve made it clear… that you _don’t._ All you ever liked about me was that I could hold my own in a fight, and that you _knew_ I would follow you without question to hell and back. Because we were friends. But the minute I’m against you none of that matters anymore, huh? All of those years, and for what?” He felt himself losing it, but he didn’t care. He had wanted to tell Dream all of this for so long, to have some reason to voice all of his frustrations over the years. He never expected he’d be doing it in a prison cell.

“I’m done with you Dream, and I’ve _been_ done with you. I wanted to love you, I wanted to be there for you, but now what are we? What are we when you’ve never had my back, and I’ve always had to have yours? _Am I just a fucking pawn to you?_ ” He whispered, and Dream still didn’t look at him.

Sapnap scoffed and drew his knees to his chest. “I miss him as much as you do, Dream. Blame me all the hell you want, but I loved him too. I never wanted him hurt. I never wanted to be so defenseless, I never wanted to be the one who had to let him go,” He caught himself rambling and cut himself off with a shaky breath. “I never wanted this to happen.” He mumbled, tears threatening to fall. Dream let him sob to himself before he shifted finally and turned to face him. 

“I’ll get Karl’s testimony tomorrow, and take you to see him.” Dream said, voice carefully monotone. Sapnap burned boiling hot in his chest, ignoring the hurt he hadn’t been expecting. He wanted Dream to say something else, to apologize, to acknowledge all of the years they spent together. He’d accepted the fact that all he had thought about Dream may be true, but for him to not even try to fight back? He didn’t want Dream to brush him off again like he’d done for years. But now it was _true,_ and Sapnap had never felt so betrayed in his life.

“I still need a testimony, and I’ll leave. Tell me the truth, and I’ll do what I said.”

There was no use fighting him anymore. “...You promise?”

“I’m not going to lie to you.”

After being his friend for several years on end, Sapnap for the life of him could not tell if Dream was being genuine. The best friend of his life, and Sapnap had come to learn he’d never be able to read him again no matter what their closeness was. Dream was closed off to him forever, and the difference in that was painful.

He wanted to see Karl and Quackity.

“Confronting you with George as a hostage was Quackity’s plan. It was Technoblade’s idea to beat George up, it was Technoblade’s idea to blow up the portal,” he swallowed, willing himself to drown out the guilt swimming in his stomach. _This was right, he was doing what was right._ Especially when Karl needed him. “That’s the truth.”

They sat in silence for a minute longer, before Dream rose to his feet. Sapnap pushed himself to his feet, too. Dream looked into the camera and waved.

“I’m ready to come out, Sam.”

…

“Sam?”

Despite themselves, they exchanged a glance. Sapnap shrugged and looked into the camera with him. They both saw it was obviously blinking, it was definitely working, so what the hell was going on? Sam never took this long, not even with the max security cell.

The silence was dreadful, and Sapnap could tell it took everything in Dream’s power not to express his worry or look into his direction. And it would take everything in Sapnap’s power not to step in and help him for the first time.

Minutes passed.

The sudden clicking sound of the repeaters were a relief. Dream walked over to the iron door, and Sapnap stepped away obediently, resigning to sit back down on the floor and rest. Saying that he and Dream beat the shit out of each other was an understatement.

Sam looked out of sorts when he approached and pressed the button to open the cell, but before Dream could ask the man had an iron grip on his arm.

_Shit._

They were hardly out of earshot and Dream asked, “What? What the hell happened, what are you doing—”

“Shut up.”

Dream’s mouth snapped shut in compliance, and he stood silently when Sam let him go and left to open the iron-piston door, watching in ugly anticipation as all the moving parts fell into place in the wall. Sam seized him by the arm again and dragged him forward, and all Dream could do was follow. 

Once the iron-piston door closed behind them Dream spat, “What the hell was that about? What happened? Why are you being so quiet? If you’re mad about me with Sapnap, he threw the first...” He trailed off, and Sam let him go.

He stood by himself and felt as if he were swaying, suddenly very sick to his stomach. Sapnap had fucked him over mentally and physically, and he had _forced_ himself to ignore it, but on second thought he thinks he might deserve the punch to the gut he gets right then. He doubled forward, and stayed down.

“You’re a piece of shit!”

“I couldn’t stop him, Dream. He wouldn’t leave until I let him in—”

“How could you? How could you do all of this?”

Dream straightened and towered over him, but the smaller person didn’t relent. 

_George_ didn’t relent.

“How could you do that to him? All of this time you’ve been _awful_ and I had no idea!”

Sam cleared his throat, unsure of whether or not he should step in. “He forced his way into security, he saw your visit.” He supplied, and Dream felt something ugly churn inside of him. Sam had given George a tour a week ago. It didn’t surprise Dream that he got inside—George could lie when he wanted—and he probably made a beeline right to security.

George shook his head, beyond himself with anger. “No! Not even that. I know what you did to _Tommy,_ Dream. I know what you’ve done, and meanwhile all you’ve done was,” he paused, searching for words, “ _Lie to me_ about everything!”

Dream shifted his weight to his other foot. “I didn’t lie. I was going to tell you.”

“When.” George demanded, and Dream finally moved his eyes up from the floor, forcing himself to meet George’s gaze, scorching him from the inside out. He’d been on the receiving end of George’s anger before, and the _terrible_ part of Dream wanted to push him away and forget everything including the looming pit in his heart George would inevitably leave. The _good_ part of Dream cared too much, and wanted to do anything possible to mend the sudden chasm between them. It hurted.

“After the trials. Three days, at most.”

“Are you saying what I want to hear or are you being honest?” George snapped and Dream wilted.

“I’m being honest.” He mumbled, and George scowled.

“Bull. _Shit._ ” George hissed, and Sam stepped in.

“Okay, enough.”

“Why? Do you even know what he’s done, Sam? Do you know? Ghostbur told me—”

“ _I do know._ ” Sam raised his voice, and Dream took solace in his protection. That, at least, was true. Sam _had_ been someone to talk to, and Sam had listened through it all. He could trust Sam. “You’re both too angry, and you’re taking this outside. I’m not going to have you fighting in the prison.”

“But Sam—”

“ _No._ The prisoners aren’t even supposed to know you’re alive right now.” Sam scolded, and George snapped his mouth shut. Unable to argue any further, George rolled his eyes with a huff and started off toward the exit before they could follow. Dream felt he was going to be sick, and Sam said nothing. He grabbed him by the arm, and Dream let himself be dragged.

Sam continued his scolding once they were outside.

“Fighting now will get you no where. You,” he pointed to George, “return to Bad’s house. And _you,_ go home,” He pointed to Dream. “It’s been a long day for everyone and the best thing to do now is to go home before we do anything we _regret._ ” He said, glaring back and forth between them.

George moved to open his mouth but Sam held up a hand, stopping him. “Go back to Bad’s house. I’m walking him home and fixing him up.”

“But _Sam,_ he’s—” George started, and Dream looked back to his shoes. 

“Dream, do you love George?” Sam asked, and Dream jumped, whipping his head up to face him.

“...yes.”

“George, do you love Dream?”

Dream felt himself pang at George’s tiny, hesitant, “ _Yes._ ”

“Then for the sake of both of you leave it to tomorrow. _Think,_ ” he said, pointedly at Dream, “About what you’re going to say.”

The pair nodded agreeably, refusing to step within a few paces of one another. George lingered for only a few seconds more before obediently starting off towards Bad’s house. Dream gave Sam a wary, pallid look, and he shook his head.

“Let’s get you home.”

_I’ve ruined everything._

“It’s not that far of a walk, you’re going to be alright.”

_I don’t know what I want anymore. Sapnap’s gone. George is gone._

“Have some dinner, clean yourself up, and go to bed, okay?”

_George is in the way. He won’t understand._

“That’s probably the best plan for you right now.”

_But I love him too much. I’m in love with him._

“It’s okay to keep talking to me, alright? I may be the warden, but I’m still going to be here for you.”

Then figure out a new plan to make everything work.

“Ok.”  
_Ok._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to find me at kixyme on Twitter and Instagram or kix-yme on Tumblr, I’d love to talk to you! For a quick link to my social media, click the link in my profile.
> 
> Have a great day! :)


	5. George III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream and George talk, and George needs to get away from everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi lovely people I am currently suffering due to Captain Puffy Dream Duckling brainrot so naturally I have to write it into this fic. It's canon bc I say so. Also sorry can't help myself there's still a lot of angst again LOL but there's going to be A LOT of fluff next two chapters and that is actually a promise :DD
> 
> also you may have noticed that I've added awesamponk to the tags B) that's to fulfill a promise i made on twitter bc of Sam accepting to be Ponk's valentine HAHA so it will be little but be prepared for that THEY ARE CUTE
> 
> anyway I hope you enjoy reading, let me know what you thought in the comments :D
> 
> cw: Drinking, Drunk behavior, Cursing

Dream walked in through Bad’s front door in the middle of breakfast. George kept his eyes steadily focused on the eggs in front of him, and he could sense Bad’s sudden hesitation and panic in the kitchen.

When George had retreated into his room without Dream on his heels the night before, Bad knew something was amiss. And he knew something was really wrong when George only came up to grab dinner, only to go back to his room, refusing to talk to him.

Something was wrong, and Bad didn’t know what. A lovers’ quarrel he supposed. Or just an argument between very, very good friends. He and Skeppy have had their fair share.

Skeppy, blissfully unaware of the tension and minding his business trying to eat, complained in futility when Bad grabbed him by the shoulders and strongly suggested he follow him out of the room and upstairs. George let his silverware fall to his plate with a clank and Dream shut the door behind him, sliding into the seat across George where Skeppy had been.

The only thing that made George look up as seconds stretched to minutes was the ceramic thunk of Dream’s mask in front of him. He dared to meet his eyes, and Dream looked equally as happy about everything. He had a black eye, and a bruise on his cheek. George was decidedly not in the wrong here, though, and looked back down at his plate.

“I know you don’t like fighting,” Dream began, voice taut. It sounded awful and scratchy, like he’d screamed or cried it hoarse. “Especially with me.” He said, and George nodded. It was no secret he hated conflict. It made him uncomfortable and he was always nervous he was somehow burning bridges with the people he cared about. And he had a feeling Dream knew how upset he was since George had been the one to confront him first.

“I want to explain myself to you,” Dream started, and George didn’t say anything, deciding to play with his food. Dream hesitated. “I’m just trying to do what’s right. Not every problem can be solved with kind words or a push in the right direction. So if all it takes to fix everything is for me to be mean, for me to be… the _bad guy,_ then fine. I’ll do it. And I _did._ ”

George’s anger hadn’t seemed to have eased any as he still stubbornly picked at his food, doomed to go cold. His face was scrunched, and he avoided Dream’s eyes as if they were poison.

George could feel him tense when he said, “You’re lying.”

Dream sputtered. “I’m—I’m not.”

George met his eyes, brimming with anger. “You _are,_ ” He insisted, ignoring the way Dream’s face looked genuinely shocked, ignoring how sad his eyes looked. “You’re lying to me again.”

“What?” He asked, drawing his arms close. He was physically closing himself off. “I’m not—I don’t _think_ I’m--”

“You don’t think? What are you talking about, Dream!?” George shouted, throwing his fork to his plate again, and Dream shuddered.

“That’s not what I meant! I don’t—I don’t know what you want from me anymore. All I want is for the SMP to get along. All I’m _doing_ is tearing down the people responsible for its divide.” Dream leaned forward, and tentatively grabbed hold of his wrist.

George ripped it away. “Ghostbur told me what you did to Tommy.”

“Ghostbur?” Dream’s brow furrowed. “What—why—what did he say?”

“He said that you blew up all of his belongings. You took the things he cared about, you messed with him…” George looked back down at his plate, willing the heat raising in his cheeks to cool and for his heart rate to steady. He hated this.

“Tommy is an enemy to the SMP, and has always been one.”

“He’s a _kid._ ”

“He’s a kid who’s _in over his head._ He’s never had anyone put him in his place, George.”

“So what, you have to?”

“If it’s going to keep everyone safe, _yes!_ I don’t know about you, but would you rather have an all out war over a pair of discs, _where people die,_ or have peace?” Dream bit at him. Neither felt like bringing up that Dream no longer had possession of both discs.

George turned away.

“I’m choosing the latter, George. If I have to be the one to do it, I don’t fucking _care_ anymore. I’ll do it. Even now that I don’t have both discs, I’ll do it _again_ if I need to. It’s to keep people safe.”

George mumbled something under his breath and Dream stilled, sucking in a breath and pulling away.

“I didn’t hear you.” He said nervously.

“So what about Sapnap, then?” George asked, meeting dark golden eyes, and Dream’s gaze darted to the side. “What’s your excuse this time?” George asked and Dream fought the urge to scowl.

He sat and watched Dream in silence as he seemingly wrestled with himself, face messed and unable to give him a response. George drummed his fingers on the table as he waited, remembering for Dream’s sake it was worth giving him time and being patient. If anything else, George knew how Dream worked. Which was a blessing and a curse.

For one, George had often given him time and the benefit of the doubt, but for the other George could see right through him. He was his best friend, it was no surprise it came naturally. But now it was terrifying because for the first time in years George couldn’t. Dream wasn’t acting himself, opaque where he was once transparent. He knew Dream wasn’t right, and wasn’t the same Dream from minutes ago, or the Dream he knew when they’d met for the first time. They had been kids then, and his mask had been shoddily made with coal. Now with the professional, ceramic, hardened mask and years of turmoil with L’Manburg, George didn’t see Dream in front of him anymore.

This wasn’t _Dream_ anymore, and he didn’t know why.

“I can’t.” Dream said, finally, and George sighed.

“It’s okay,” George said, and by his tone alone Dream knew he was still in deep shit. He resisted the urge to take George’s hands in his, where George was leaning his elbows on the table. This obsession with him was addictive, and the only thing that enraptured him anymore. “But you need to do better.” Dream’s eyes stopped lingering on his hands and dragged up to meet his, where George was looking at him seriously.

Dream pursed his lips. “I’ll do better.” He agreed, and George didn’t look away. This was torture. George, mad at him, was torture. And George knew it.

“You _need to_ do better. You need to want to do better.” George demanded. He was in a position to hold him accountable, and planned to do so. He wasn’t going to let people shit on him anymore, and especially not Dream. Dream caved right away.

“I’ll do better, George. I’ll do better.” He promised, and George’s teeth sank into his bottom lip. Dream‘s eyes followed and George frowned.

“Are you okay?” George asked suddenly, and Dream’s eyes snapped to his.

“What?”

“I asked if you’re okay,” George grimaced. “You just got—weird all of a sudden.” George searched his face and found nothing. “You’ve actually been really weird _a lot,_ recently,” He paused. “Dream?”

“I’ll do better.” Dream repeated, and George gave him a look. “For you, okay? How can I prove it to you?” Dream asked, sincere, and George tilted his head forward to look up at him through his lashes.

“Go back to Sapnap and apologize. Let him see Karl, and let him see Quackity.” George demanded, and Dream drew back. 

“What.”

George crossed his arms. “I’m serious.” 

“ _George,_ they almost killed you—”

“So? I’m okay, it doesn’t matter!” 

Dream’s eyes went wide. “ _What?_ You--” 

George pinched his nose and shook his head. “Stop. They don’t deserve all the shit you’re giving them, and you know it.” Dream glared at him, brow furrowed.

“George, you’re—”

“Open your eyes, Dream! I’ve moved on, so why haven’t you?” George shouted, and made no note of how he’d been a part of Quackity’s plan from the beginning. It didn’t matter anymore. And the fact that he _had_ almost died continued to change nothing.

“Because well, _because—_ ”

“Sapnap’s apology seemed genuine—”

“Have you moved on? Have you really?” Dream asked, and George’s face went flush.

“I’m not talking to you about this anymore.” George stood up out of his seat, and Dream’s face dropped.

“Wait. No no no, wait.” Dream followed him up out of his seat, and George whirled on him.

“ _Dream._ ” It was a warning, and Dream pulled away. George took space seriously, and when he tapped out he _tapped out._ The conversation was over. George stared at him, and he stared back.

“I care.” Dream blurted, and George nodded.

“I know,” George bit his lip. “So… be better.”

“I will. I will for you, okay?” Dream’s eyes bore into his. “I love you, George.” They’ve only said this hushed to one another, never in daylight, never like this. The proclamation felt wrong, and it scared him. It was exciting, but it was terrifying.

George shut his eyes, and held his ground. “I’m waiting for you. I want you to be better, Dream. Right now, I...”

“No,” Dream said, backing away. “No, it’s okay. I understand.”

“Okay.” George poorly replied, and stood awkwardly as Dream finally stepped away for good, securing his mask back on his face.

Dream walked to the door to leave and paused with a hand on the knob, turning over his shoulder. “Tonight?” He asked.

“Yes.” George nodded helplessly.

Their eyes locked, and George felt himself ebb with exhaustion.

Dream left without another word.

George heard a voice outside. “Oh, uh, hey Dream...?”

George internally groaned, wanting nothing more than to bury his head in his hands and pass out. Of course there would be people here. Why would there not be people here?

“Hey Bad, just saw Dream but he didn’t say anything what--” Punz stopped in his tracks at the entrance, jaw going slack, another person at his side. He wasn’t expecting George. “Oh fuck, what happened?” He asked, and George rolled his eyes with a huff. George was too obvious, and far too easy to read.

When George didn’t say anything, it only became even more increasingly obvious. Dream leaving in a hurry, George standing alone with his face bright red…

Bad came barreling down the stairs, Skeppy on his heels, yelling. “Ahh sorry George I forgot to tell you Punz and Puffy were coming over today!! We were going to go investigate the red vines that have been spreading everywhere…” George blanched and steadied himself on the table, blocking out the rest of his sentence.

He felt sick. “I’m going on a walk.”

Bad cringed. “George, you can’t. Not until--”

“I don’t care about the trials, I’m tired of being cooped up here,” He sucked in his cheeks. “I’m going to my old home.” George announced, turning over his shoulder to grab his coat, before he could be convinced otherwise. He walked toward the entrance with purpose and Bad followed.

“Dream said--”

“I don’t give a shit about what Dream said,” George snapped. “I’m going.”

Punz groaned and slapped himself on the forehead. “God fucking damnit, I _told_ Dream to _tell you--_ ” Puffy elbowed him in the side to cut him off.

George turned on him. “What the hell you knew? _What the fuck, Punz!?_ ”

“It’s not my place to tell you!”

“Enough! Both of you enough, and language!” Bad shouted, and George rolled his eyes.

“Whatever. I’m leaving.”

“George, I’m serious, _wait--_ ” Bad reached out to grab his sleeve.

“Bad, stop. I can go with.” George blinked in surprise at the woman who’d thrown herself between them, and Bad frowned at her.

“What? You--”

“Let’s go, George. You boys have fun with the vines!” Puffy grinned, putting a hand to his lower back. She pushed him out the door in a hurry, and Punz stepped out of the way, giving George an apologetic glance as he left. They left Bad’s nonsensical yelling behind them.

Once outside, George looked down at her with uncertainty and surprise. No one had ever done something like that for him. He’d never had a conversation with her, and still she had saved him. They started on the path, and he didn’t know what to say. It was a relief she was talkative.

“Not sure if I’ve had the pleasure to introduce myself.” She said. George realized she fully intended to walk with him the whole way there. “I’m Puffy.” She smiled, putting out her hand, and George took it.

“George,” He said politely, trying and failing to match her smile. “I just wanted to go home because I… haven’t been in a few weeks.”

“I've heard that they’ve been keeping a pretty tight hold on you.” She said, and distantly George remembered seeing Puffy in the background. She’d been at the initial confrontation between Dream and Quackity, the party at Bad’s house, and she’d gone with Dream to collect Quackity, Sapnap, and Karl. He’s surprised he hasn’t talked to her sooner.

“Yeah, something like that. The farthest I’ve gone was the prison. At least out in daytime, like this.” He sighed.

“...Do you wanna talk about it?” She asked carefully, and George couldn’t keep himself from giving her a look. He apologized.

“Sorry, it’s just… things have been difficult.”

“I know,” She said, and George warmed to her sincerity. It sounded like she meant it. “But, you know, that’s what I’m here for.” She sighed with a small chuckle, and George laughed along with her, incredulous.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked, raising a brow.

“Well,” She sighed with a shrug, “I've sorta become the server’s therapist. Everyone finds their way to me one way or another,” She paused, smiling sadly. “Even Dream.” George whipped around to face her, and she laughed.

“Hard to believe, huh?” 

“Yeah, I mean--Dream doesn’t normally open up.” George burned at his remark, realizing that it’d been proven true less than twenty minutes ago. And now Dream was talking to Puffy, and not him.

“Well to be fair, I guess he didn’t really open up.” She said as George tried the door knob of his entrance, to find it still unlocked. They were lucky to not pass anyone and had arrived quickly. He walked inside with Puffy on his heels, coughing at the dust. “But he was... different.” She decided with a nod to herself, and George looked at her suspiciously, not caring about walking around with shoes on his carpet.

“Different how?” He asked, and Puffy shut the door behind her.

“Simpler. Calmer. It was _nice._ ” She said, standing in the entrance awkward. George disappeared into his bedroom and returned, axe in hand.

“Sorry, I just missed this. Go on.” He said, tossing the axe back and forth in his hands, and gestured to his dining room table. They sat, and Puffy held her head in her hands.

“I don’t know how to explain it.” She smiled to herself, and George tilted his head curiously. Behind her, he saw glimpses of Dream. Dream in his kitchen, Dream lounging in his chairs, Dream pressing him against a wall. He shut his eyes.

“What did he say?” He asked. George felt the tips of his ears turn bright red when she laughed at him.

“That’s the thing. He didn’t say much,” She shrugged, and played with a thread on her sleeve. “I was just tending to business one day and he just… followed me. No words, no nothing. He was like my little duckling.” George felt his heart warm. It made him happy to know that someone else knew Dream for who he really was. He wasn’t a ruthless dictator all the time, he wasn’t someone to be afraid of all the time. He was… a person, under all of the facades. She continued.

“He was sweet. He didn’t need to say anything to me. He just wanted to be, so I talked to him knowing he’d say nothing. The quiet was nice, even if that’d been one of the first interactions I’d ever had with him. We went to go chop down trees, and then we went back home. He followed me there, he followed me back, and then we did it again another day.”

George tried to picture a quiet, serene Dream, simply following without saying anything. It seemed almost surreal in a way, picturing the man he had known for so long like that. He’d seen glimpses of it before, Dream checked out and reserved, but never to that extent.

“My point is,” Puffy said, clearing her throat and causing George’s eyes to snap to hers, “We’ve both seen the better sides to Dream. I see him as that duckling who followed me those few months ago, but _I don’t_ recognize him as that duckling right now. _I don’t know_ who the real Dream is, but I think _I saw_ a real part of him.”

“It feels like he’s changed.” George admitted quietly, and Puffy softened.

“I think he has,” She murmured, bittersweet, and George frowned. That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. “Or, at least, he’s hidden that part of him away,” She amended. “I’ve seen how he is with you. He’s a completely different man than when he’s serious or with others. Or even with me.”

George flushed. “I guess that’s true.”

Puffy smirked at him. “It’s pretty obvious how much he loves you.”

“Tell me about it,” He snorted, and for the first time he seriously met her eyes. “It’s just…” he began, awkward, “Why does a part of me feel like he’s still being deceitful?” He winced at himself. He probably shouldn’t be implying that about Dream, especially not to someone who wasn’t technically in their inner circle. Puffy didn’t care.

“If you think he’s being deceitful, then maybe you should ask him.” Puffy suggested, and George pursed his lips.

“I tried this morning,” he looked away, dejected. “He wouldn’t tell me.” He pouted.

“So he’s just not ready, yet. He’ll tell you when he’s ready.” She promised, and George sighed with exasperation.

“I’m supposed to be the closest. I’m supposed to know everything, I’m supposed to know him, so why does it feel like I don’t anymore?”

Puffy raised a shoulder in sympathy. “You’ve been away from one another for so long. I think that’s natural.”

“It’s just… weird. He’s closed off to me in ways he’s never been before. I don’t know what to make of it.” He admitted guiltily. “I still love him, he’s still Dream, but he’s _different._ ”

“He looked upset when he left today. Did something happen?” She pressed, and George looked down at his table.

“I found out something I wasn’t supposed to. I got upset, and I… _may or may not have punched him in the gut yesterday_ ,” He admitted, embarrassed. He pinched the bridge of his nose with a groan. “God, I’m an idiot.”

“Eh, he probably deserved it.” Puffy offered, and at the time George thought that was true. He wasn’t sure anymore. His head was telling him yes, absolutely, but his heart stung with denial.

“This morning he came to explain himself and he just… didn’t.” George’s brows furrowed. “He was never able to tell me _why._ ”

Puffy reached for his hand across the table. “We all have our demons,” she said, and George tilted his head, letting her know he was listening. “Some are easier to share than others.” She said, and George knew she was right. It just felt like a flighty excuse, and he didn’t want it to be. He wanted to _know._

She grinned at him again. “Love’s difficult, isn’t it?” She giggled, and George found himself laughing along with her. Her grin went wider, mischievous. “You wanna get outta here? Go to my base away from everything else, have a few drinks maybe?”

George hesitated. A bad, impulsive idea seemed like it’d be a really _fun_ good one. And it had been awhile since he’d done anything like this for himself.

“Sure.” He said before he regretted it, and let her pull him out of his chair.

He won’t say that having his hand in hers the whole walk over felt nice, squeezing her hand to find her squeezing back. He won’t say he missed having someone like her in his life, or that she selfishly reminded him of his mother. But he had a feeling she knew. 

Like she knew about Dream.

—

Bad was more than happy to see George being practically carried through the door at 4pm, as one could imagine.

Puffy was apologizing profusely through laughter as she traded George off her shoulder into Bad’s arms. George was hardly able to stand, and Bad was yelling at them but George wasn’t listening. He was trying to focus on not ruining the carpet.

“Puffy, I thought you were gonna take care of him! I didn’t think you were gonna… _I didn’t think you were going to—_ ” Bad was sputtering, and Puffy couldn’t breathe through her laughter. Skeppy also happened to be laughing his ass off in the background.

“Aw come on Bad, we only had a few. He’ll be fine in a few hours, I promise.”

“You’re going to pay for this.” He groaned, giving up and dumping George into a chair. Puffy snorted.

“I don’t think so. We just had a little fun, let off some steam...”

“And you _drank._ In the middle of the day!” Bad cried. Skeppy did nothing to help either of them in the argument. He did bother getting up to slide a glass of water George’s way, though.

“There’s nothing wrong with that!”

George’s head dropped to the table, and he buried his head in his arms. He turned to lay on his cheek, and gave Puffy a weak smile.

“Thanks for taking me out today.”

“No problem, kid! See Bad? We had a good day.” She said, cuffing his shoulder, and Bad rolled his eyes.

“Ok fine, whatever. I’m going to make dinner.” Bad sighed, and Puffy took her leave.

Hours later, George found himself doing dishes.

It was to makeup for having to be babysat all day, and George took it in stride. He wasn’t drunk anymore but trucking steadily through a hangover. After he was finished with the chores Bad laid out for him he planned to crash right into his bed.

Bad and Skeppy had gone to bed hours ago, leaving George to clean up. Skeppy didn’t hesitate to pile on his own chores he’d been putting off onto George, on top of the ones Bad already gave him. So George showered, threw on a sweatshirt of Dream’s and boxers, and got to work. It didn’t matter that he and Dream had fought earlier that morning, his sweatshirts were always comfortable and made him feel better. And besides, while he still wanted a proper apology, he wasn’t really furious with Dream. Mad, maybe, but _furious?_

George didn’t hear the door open. He was too focused on getting everything done, counting down the seconds for when he’d finally be able to pass out in his bed. His catnap on the table right after Puffy left didn’t count. He was in the kitchen washing dishes, going through the motions, before sensing he was no longer alone.

He froze, resting his forearms on the sink and staring idly ahead as hands clutched at the sides of his sweatshirt. He breathed harshly, suddenly nervous and his heart racing. He needed the hands to _stop,_ he needed them to stay there before things got bad.

“Dream?” George asked carefully, and Dream said nothing. He pressed closer and pushed his forehead to the back of George’s shoulder to stay. He didn’t move.

George reached forward and turned off the sink, not knowing what to do. He waited for minutes, and still Dream didn’t move. He stood, Dream pressed against his back, hands idly on his sides. George’s sleeves were still pushed to his elbows, his sweater at his stomach was damp from the water splashing, and his legs were entirely bare. George waited, and he didn’t move.

Dream inhaled, and when he exhaled George finally realized. 

The exhale sounded like it hurt, like he’d been holding his breath the moment he walked in. Tears began to stain his shoulder, and everything fell. Restraints were let loose until everything crashed, and Dream broke down. George had never seen him cry, had never seen him this upset. A close second to seeing Dream so dismayed was his recent brush with death, but Dream didn’t stop.

He cried into the crook of his neck, and George found himself smiling to offset the tears streaming down his own face. Stubbornly he tilted his head up to the ceiling and screwed his eyes shut, giving in and leaning into Dream to cry along with him. He stopped fighting the tension in his throat. He hadn’t cried in so long. George hadn’t allowed himself to _let go_. His whole body shook.

George didn’t oppose Dream’s hands wrapping around his middle, and didn’t say anything when his shoulder became damp. They were both grieving. He didn’t care that Dream didn’t apologize yet. He _couldn’t_ care, heart breaking to have Dream so upset and unable to talk about what was going on. Something had happened, and George knew at some point he’d learn what.

He just had to wait. He had to wait for Dream to be _better._

George turned around in Dream’s arms, and Dream looked down at him with something akin to terror. He hated vulnerability; George saw it all. The tear stained-cheeks, the screwed up hair, the runny nose. And the fucked up thing-that-was-his-nose _period,_ scars still haunting him, still hidden behind a tangible mask from everyone. Except Sapnap, except _George._

He pulled him in for a hug and Dream relented, leaning down and letting his shoulders relax. George reached up and ran his hands over the expanse of his back, hand curling at the back of his neck and tangling through the hair at his neck to hold him there, doing anything he could to comfort him. Dream sighed, deciding he was through crying, and George smiled.

“Come to bed with me?” He asked, and Dream made a noise, nodding into the front of his sweatshirt. He hugged him tighter.

“You promise not to leave before I wake up?” George asked, and was surprised at the tiny nod he got after only a few seconds. Waking up together meant facing each other. Dream couldn’t leave, but neither could he.

The night of soft hugs and kisses and murmurs would slip away, and the chance that there was a possibility they’d argue tomorrow made George’s skin crawl. He loved Dream too much and wanted him too long to let him go. The thought of Dream leaving terrified him. But there was a small part of him that knew that Dream wouldn’t leave. And George wouldn’t— _couldn’t leave_ Dream. 

No matter what happened. 

Shoving bothersome thoughts away, he pushed a lock of Dream’s hair aside and kissed his temple, pressing it behind his ear.

“Let’s go.” He said, and Dream followed, hand in his.

George would learn what happened at the prison tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to find me at kixyme on Twitter and Instagram or kix-yme on Tumblr, I’d love to talk to you! For a quick link to my social media, click the link in my profile.
> 
> Have a great day! :)


	6. Quackity III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened at the prison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> COME GET Y’ALL KARLNAP JUICE it’s finally here omg there’s too much angst in these guys. To be fair there’s even angst before the cute karlnap but HEY at least it’s something!!
> 
> To be clear this chapter pretty much happens at the same time as the previous chapter. Dream comes home to George after the events in this chapter
> 
> hope you enjoy :D

“Sam, unless you’re here to give me something _other than_ potatoes, I don’t care man.” Sapnap called out. He was stubbornly facing the wall and lying on his side, and he heard footsteps. It was a mixture of annoyance and disappointment making him act like this. Sam was supposed to be his friend, but it wasn’t like he could do much for him. He fed him, he talked to him when he could, and that was as far as they got for these last few days. But the potatoes everyday were getting tiring.

Sapnap could hardly sleep anyway. He was stressed all the time and could never relax. He felt responsible for the whole thing; he felt responsible for Quackity’s safety, for _Karl’s_ safety, and now he had no contact with either of them.

“It’s me.”

Sapnap whipped around, hostility burning on his tongue.

“What do you want?” He bit, and blinked in surprise when Dream opened the door to his cell. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Come with me. We need you.” It was an order, but it didn’t sound like one. Dream was tense behind the door, and Sapnap knew without asking there was something wrong. But Sam wasn’t there.

“Where’s Sam? What are you playing at?” Sapnap asked, rolling out of bed and hesitating to step out and follow as Dream started down the hall. Even if Sam caught them, he was probably fine since he was with Dream. It was still nerve-wracking. He crossed through the entrance of the cell and looked around with wide eyes. He hadn’t seen the prison like this before, it was colossal in size. He was blind when he was shoved in the cell, and he had no idea where Dream was taking him. They could be going to court right now. He had no idea.

“I… _uhm,_ ” Dream cut himself off as they continued further down the hall, swallowing his words, and Sapnap raised a brow at the hesitation in his voice. “He’s not right.” He managed, and Sapnap felt himself freeze. _What?_

“Who? Dream, what happened?” He raised his voice, and Dream quickened his pace. “Dream, tell me.” Sapnap walked faster so that he was at Dream’s shoulder, and glared at him.

Sapnap could see pieces of the side of his face, the expanse of his jaw, and a sliver of his eye. He looked upset. “We don’t know what to do, he won’t talk.” Dream gritted out.

“Dream, what? What happened?” Sapnap shoved him by his shoulder, and Dream batted his hand away.

They came to a stop at the front of a cell, and Dream opened its iron door. “ _Help him._ ”

The cell looked just like Sapnap’s; same cot, same sink, same clock. In the corner he saw Sam leaning over, and a glimpse of brown hair hidden away behind arms and knees, making themselves smaller in the corner. He was crying. Sam pulled away as Sapnap walked in.

“We came in for a visit but he wasn’t talking and wasn't answering us. He hasn’t told us anything, so we don’t know what’s wrong. Can you help him?” Sam asked, moving to stand beside Dream. Sapnap nodded slowly to him before turning back to Karl, who was refusing to look up. 

This wasn’t the first time.

He kneeled down in front of him, feigning composure. If only he would have been allowed to see him sooner. They wouldn’t have to _do_ this, Karl wouldn’t have had to hurt like this.

“Hey, do you know your name?” Sapnap asked carefully, and Karl didn’t say anything. The grip he had on his hair lessened, though, so it was progress.

“Do you recognize me? My name’s Sapnap, you know me here.” He said, painfully aware of Dream and Sam behind him. They had no idea what he was talking about and he and Karl would probably get in trouble for this if they figured it out, but Karl was in a bad way. He couldn’t _not_ help him. “My voice, is it familiar?”

Karl peeked out from underneath his arm. He looked sad, and Sapnap ached for him. He knew from experience that he couldn’t push too hard, _he_ couldn’t be sad, _he_ wasn’t the one struggling. Sapnap sighed and rubbed at his neck, pushing his hair behind his shoulder.

“C’mon baby, it’s me. I know you. I know that you’ve been,” he struggled for words, remembering the men behind him. “ _Traveling._ I’m here to help, alright? See, you’ve got an engagement ring, I’ve got the same one.”

He held up his hand to show, and Karl’s brows furrowed. It always took him a minute to come around. It never happened right away. When Karl’s expression didn’t change, Sapnap frowned, glancing to make sure Karl’s was still there. It was the one thing Sam hadn’t taken away from them.

“You came back, and you forgot again. It’s okay, baby. You’re okay. You’ve been gone for a little, haven't you?” Sapnap asked, and Karl nodded slowly, recognition in his eyes. Sapnap heard footsteps behind him, and Karl glanced up suddenly, face twisting. Karl closed into himself, and Sapnap watched him slip away.

“What’s going on?” Dream demanded, and Sapnap shot him a glare over his shoulder.

“You’re not helping, Dream. Go away.”

“I just--why is he--” Dream was stammering, caught off guard but the sudden retaliation, and Sapnap turned away from him with a roll of his eyes. Sam grabbed Dream by the shoulder and yanked him backward. Dream didn’t say anything.

“Let’s see uh, you live in El’ Rapids, you have Quackity, he’s your boyfriend. And me. You have me?” Sapnap asked rhetorically, trying to see if that jogged anything. He reached out his hand, and Karl frowned at him. 

“Where are we?” he asked, and Sapnap’s shoulders dropped.

“We’re in prison, Jacobs.”

“Prison? Why?” He sounded pitiful, and Sapnap hated it. He hated all of this. This was Karl, _this was the same Karl,_ and Sapnap willed himself to remember that somewhere in his pretty little head were all of their memories together.

Sapnap _was_ proud of him. Karl was so smart, he knew so much. He was doing a good thing traveling through time, and Sapnap _knew_ that. Even when they’d argued about it countless times before, ending the same way each time, with Sapnap being too protective of him, and Karl _needing to_. He wouldn’t tell him everything, but Sapnap knew enough of the futures ahead, all of them worrisome. Karl was constantly throwing himself into danger and he couldn’t do anything. But Sapnap did promise him one thing. Looking past the arguments, looking past their little fights, Sapnap promised that no matter what happened he would be there, and he would help. If Karl forgot, Sapnap would be by his side until he remembered. It was a promise.

“Only holding cells. We need to figure out what happened so you can get out of here, that’s why Dream and Sam are here.”

Karl’s eyes widened. “I don’t--”

“I know baby, we’ll figure it out. I’m not leaving until we figure this out.” He didn’t know that. But he would fight both Dream and Sam to prove it if he had to. “Okay?” He held out his hand again and to his relief Karl took it. 

Karl’s hands were soft, and he turned Sapnap’s palm over in his hands, looking at it quizzically. Sapnap was patient, keeping his mouth shut as he watched. It was so weird. This was his fiance, and yet he had no idea who he was. He’d kissed him, he’d made him wordless promises, he had loved him to _death._ Quackity didn’t even fucking _know_ yet, Karl had never gotten around to telling him, and it was obvious how much they loved one another.

Karl squeezed his hand, brow furrowing at the soft lick of flames. Karl’s hands were always cold. It was second nature to want to warm them, and Sapnap hadn’t realized he was doing it. “Sapnap?” 

He glanced up to meet Karl’s eyes, no longer clouded. He sighed with a smile of relief, and Karl tried to share his smile before he started to cry. Sapnap leaned forward and put a hand to his cheek to press his tear away with a thumb.

“Oh god. Oh god, I’m so sorry…” Karl’s face dropped with dread. Sapnap pulled Karl closer, letting him bury his face into his chest and squeeze him around his middle. Sapnap pet the back of his head and held him tight, murmuring in his ear. Karl had a death grab on his shirt.

“It’s okay baby. You’re here. You’re back. It’s okay.” Sapnap pulled away to kiss his forehead, and Karl grinned sadly at him, the miserable look on his face not dissipating. He buried his head back into his chest.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’re fine,” He assured him, and Karl nodded into his chest, taking his words to heart. _He was home._ After a minute Sapnap pulled away to search his face, dropping a hand to his shoulder. They needed to address why he was here in the first place. Sapnap’s smile faded, and he took a deep breath. “Do you remember everything?”

Karl’s eyes widened with realization, and he tossed a glance behind Sapnap to the men who had been watching their entire conversation. He swallowed and looked back into amber.

“Yeah, I think so.” Karl went pale. How much had he said? What happened while he was gone?

“They want your statement.”

“And Quackity?” He hadn’t heard a word about him since he’d been thrown in the cell.

“We can’t let you see him just yet,” Sam intervened. “We need to hear what you have to say first, and then we may consider allowing visitors.” Karl stared at him, and Sam cleared his throat. “Which means we need your statement.”

“Right. I mean, _right._ ” He sat up straighter, and took Sapnap’s hand in his. He wouldn’t let go, and Sam seemed to understand that when he thumbed his notebook open and said nothing else. They didn’t want to risk anything with Sapnap leaving. They would deal with whatever happened to Karl later. Right now, this was most important.

“Only a few questions and then we’ll leave. Alright?”

“Yes.” Karl nodded, and Sapnap rubbed the palm of his hand with his thumb.

“I’m going to need you to tell me everything that happened three weeks ago.” Sam asked, and Karl stole a glance at Sapnap. He nodded, and rubbed his hand again.

“Tell him everything, baby. No lies,” He looked at him seriously and pulled his hand into his lap. “Be honest.” He said, and Karl held his gaze before nodding.

“Okay. Everything, right…” He trailed off and looked at the ceiling to try and recall. “The plan was… um, Quackity’s. But we never wanted to hurt anyone. Nothing bad was supposed to happen. It was Technoblade who did all of that, we had no idea. The plan was supposed to be that he and Tommy would get the discs, and we would get independence. Quackity was supposed to negotiate but…” he stole a glance at Dream, lurking in the corner, “That didn’t work.”

Sapnap pursed his lips and nodded. That was true. They _had_ agreed for Quackity to negotiate, all the way back at Techno’s house. Techno was only supposed to pose as a threat, an extra man to combat Dream. But they didn’t consider who Dream really respected. He had made it clear he didn’t respect Sapnap, and it was no surprise he had even less respect for Quackity. Technoblade was the only other person on his level, and therefore the only person Dream would consider bargaining with.

“Did you have any part in the foundation of this plan?”

“No.” Sapnap nodded.

“Do you regret your actions that set the plan into motion?”

Karl stole a glance at Sapnap. Don’t lie. “Yes.”

“Okay well thank you Karl, that should be enough.” Sam said, scribbling down words into his notebook. He turned over his shoulder, putting his pen over his ear. “What do you think, Dream?”

Dream said nothing and walked out of the room.

They stood watching the door where Dream had left for only a minute before Sapnap spoke up.

“So what happens now?”

“Dream and I will review the evidence. We may talk it through with the others, but due to some sensitive information we may try and keep this to ourselves and settle on an agreement. That’s a hypothetical, depending on what we decide. Dream and I still have to figure that part out.” Sam closed his notebook and pocketed it, crossing his arms.

Sapnap prepared for a fight, letting go of Karl’s hands and starting to rise. Sam put up his hands.

“No, no, stay. I’ll come back in a few hours to pick you up and let you back in your cell. Does that work for you?”

Sapnap paused. “I mean, yeah dude. That works.” He and Karl exchanged a glance, and he let out a relieved laugh. “Thanks man.”

“No worries. I’ll see you soon.” Sam nodded, and walked out without another word.

Sapnap turned to Karl with a grin on his face, and Karl gladly returned it, reaching up for him. Sapnap fell into his arms and tackled him into his cot, making him erupt into giggles. He pushed himself up to his elbows, and brushed the hair out of Karl’s eyes.

“Oh Karl Jacobs, what am I going to do with you?” He murmured and Karl laughed more, linking his arms together at the back of his neck to pull him in for another kiss. Sapnap didn’t want to pull away, pressing kisses to his cheek, his jaw, his hair. It didn’t last. He stole his lips for a minute more before pulling away and grinning sadly, eyes betraying him.

Karl’s hands slid down to rest on his neck before they cupped his jaw. “What’s wrong?” Sapnap glanced at the camera in the corner bearing down on them, and lowered his voice.

“I was scared for you today,” Sapnap admitted, threading his hands through his curls. “I thought I was gonna lose you, Jacobs.” He whispered, and Karl sighed.

“I’m sorry.”

“Listen, I know you have to but I… it’s hard. I love you too much, you know? If anything happened man I don’t know what I’d--” Karl’s hand fell to the side of his face.

“I’m here now. Okay? I’m here and, you know, we’ll make the most of it. We’ll make things better now.” Karl tried to smile to make him feel better, and Sapnap ducked his head forward in admission, knowing this was a losing battle and not having the energy to argue. Karl hugged him into his chest, and Sapnap relented, dropping his elbows. “You wanna hear about my traveling?”

“Yeah.” Sapnap mumbled into his chest, and Karl dragged his hands up and down his back, shutting his eyes.

“It was a masquerade. It was extravagant, held in a mansion with all kinds of rich people from all over the place. There were drinks, games...” Karl found himself trailing off as he left out the worst parts. He himself hadn’t come to terms with them yet, and telling Sapnap would only worry him.

“That sounds fun.” Sapnap commented, putting his palms flat and framing his shoulders with his arms. Karl drew a circle on his back and smiled into his hair.

“It was. There was someone who reminded me of you, too.” Karl confessed, and Sapnap made a noise. “His name was James, he was really nice. He talked like you, he looked like you. It felt like you were there with me.”

“I’m better than him though right?” Sapnap asked, picking up his head to rest his chin on his chest. Karl giggled and brushed the hair out of his eyes.

“Yes. You are,” He grinned. His face softened. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Jacobs.” Sapnap said, and leaned forward to press a quick kiss to his mouth. “We’ll get out of here sooner or later, alright?”

“Okay.” Karl said, and returned his arms to his back. They fell into silence, but Sapnap felt as if there was something left unsaid.

“Is there anything else, baby? Something bothering you?” Sapnap asked, and turned to face him again when Karl didn’t say anything, busying himself in tangling his hands through his hair. “You can’t tell me yet?”

Karl shook his head but sucked in a cheek, deliberately avoiding his eyes. “No. Except for one thing I guess. I just don’t know what it was.” He whispered, and Sapnap held his tongue. _Patience._

“What, baby?”

“It looked like an _egg._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on Twitter at kixyme :D


	7. George IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream and George make plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ||TOMMY’s MARCH 1st STREAM SPOILERS||
> 
> Y’ALL AJDJAJDJAJ   
> I was literally busy during today’s stream and my brother literally texted me three words about what happened and I-
> 
> You know I’m so glad I decided on canon divergency where I did 😃👍. Dream is still barely a redeemable character in this fic but AT LEAST he has no plans to kill the literal child he manipulated and abused. And he has a support system in George that’ll change him for the better,,, so,,,
> 
> Also not me literally accidentally talking about the same things in this chapter that were talked about on the stream LOL you’ll get what I mean I just found it very funny. 
> 
> Please enjoy Dream being sweet and soft in this chapter so we can forget about Dream’s character slipping off the deep end in canon and live in this reality ;w;
> 
> ||SPOILERS END||
> 
> I wanted to release early today for various reasons so here you guys go :,)
> 
> CW: HUGE warning for sexual undertones. If this makes you uncomfortable skip to the italicized portion at the bottom of the chapter when Puffy leaves (you’ll know when)
> 
> Hope you enjoy :,)

_“Look at you, out this late.”_

_Dream turned over his shoulder in surprise, stopping in his tracks. He’d been walking down the prime path, addressing errands and trying to figure out where he stood in the war, when the very leader of one side seemed to be calling out to him. He glanced over toward the path that forked off the main road where the staircase down to L’Manburg was, and saw Schlatt. He steeled himself._

_Just by his voice, the intoxication was obvious. But Schlatt stood as if it weren’t affecting him. He reeked confidence without trying, but it didn’t change the fact that Dream disliked him. Dream saw no future ahead where he and Schlatt could become friends. Dream much preferred to keep him an arm’s length away._

_“Hello, Schlatt.” He said, mostly to be polite. He fully intended to keep walking, but Schlatt had other plans and drew closer._

_“It’s been a rough few weeks, hasn’t it?” Schlatt asked, and Dream wasn’t in the mood to entertain him._

_“Sure,” he glanced him up and down. “It_ has _been rough, hasn’t it? I heard your vice-president resigned today.” Dream added, and for a second the smug smile slipped from Schlatt’s face. Dream didn’t bother saying that Schlatt had also been murdered by him, that part was implied and Schlatt knew it._

_“Yeah, well, I didn’t like him anyway.” Schlatt shrugged off, and Dream kept his mouth sealed shut. They stared at one another, and Dream grew impatient. “Too…_ annoying. _” Schlatt added to fill the silence._

_“What’s this about, Schlatt?”_

_“Wow, you’re as scary as they say you are. No fun all business, I can work with that.” Schlatt laughed, showing no sign of actually being intimidated. “I wanted to strike up a deal with you. You know, to help me out in this war of ours.”_

_Dream’s mouth pressed into a fine line. “You have nothing of interest of mine.”_

_Schlatt raised a brow and grinned. “That’s what you’d like to think.” He closed the distance between them and put a hand on his shoulder. “Walk with me, Dream. I’d like to show you something.”_

_Dream hesitated, grounding himself where he stood. “Schlatt, is this really going to be worth my time?” He asked, and Schlatt gave him a look._

_“Christ, give me_ some _credit here. It’ll be worth your while, big man.” Schlatt patted him on the back, and Dream found himself pushed forward at the impact. Schlatt was a big guy, and even though his health was shit his lifting did end up resulting in something. Dream straightened, and continued to stare at him, unmoving._

_“Just a little walk, alright?”_

\--

George stopped his wrapping and tore the excess gauze off with a tug. He tied it off and put his roll back in his satchel, letting his hands fall back to his impromptu patient. This doe he’d been tending to looked both grateful and skeptical at the cloth tight around her leg, but he couldn’t ask for much more. She had every right to be afraid of him. Her partner was standing on the other side of him, watching to ensure George wouldn’t hurt her. 

It was as if the animals had some sort of 6th sense that George wouldn’t cause them harm. He never understood it, even though he knew he would never hurt one unless it were for food. He didn’t try to make sense of it. Whenever he found himself in a forest, animals would flock. Squirrels would play at his feet, birds would perch on his shoulder, and he was just trying to mind his business.

“Alright, that should be okay.” He murmured, smoothing out the fur on her side. He’d found her laying with her leg dislocated and bleeding with her partner fretting over her. They were scared to accept his help at first, but were quick to reconsider once they knew who he was. His knowledge of herbs and medical procedures from a lifetime ago were helpful in a pinch.

He helped the doe struggle to her feet, and sighed as he watched the doe and her partner wander off deeper into the forest without another glance at him. George pushed himself to his feet, and pushed his goggles back up into his hairline.

It wasn’t long before he heard a rustling, expecting to find another animal in need of help, and turned over his shoulder to find Puffy picking her way over to him, up to her knees in the undergrowth. He reached out an arm to help her into the clearing, and she smiled up at him.

“I didn’t want to interrupt, do you do that often?” Puffy asked, and George shrugged a shoulder.

“Sometimes. I don’t know why, but the animals like me here.”

“I’ve never seen someone do that before.” She said, and George chuckled, embarrassed, deciding to brush it off.

“What are you doing out here, Puffy?”

“Ah, Dream said you two were building a house. I wanted to help, and he said you were chopping wood.”

“Yeah. I have a wagon, but I haven’t filled it yet.” George said, and gestured to the logs he’d chopped, laying all over the place. He strode ahead and picked up his axe to secure it on his shoulder, and Puffy rose a brow at the mess.

“You know you could’ve taken breaks between chopping to put them in, right?” Puffy asked, starting to lean down to collect, and George hummed, searching childishly for an excuse other than _I didn’t feel like it_.

“I was distracted.” He fessed, and joined her before he made it seem like she was doing all of the work.

“So… are you and Dream on better terms now? With you guys moving in together and all?” She glanced at him skeptically from out of the corner of her eye when she realized he was avoiding the question. “Have you guys talked?” She bit, and George guiltily wilted. She was implying that they’d ignored what happened and just moved on.

“Only a little,” George admitted, heaving his first armful into the wagon. “He came last night. He never said it aloud, but he was sorry. And this morning we decided we would build a house. It… I don’t think Dream’s problems are ones we can solve in one go. They’ll take _time._ So, you know, I’ll have to be patient, and wait for him to just come out with it.” He heaved in a breath once he’d realized he’d been rambling, and apologetically looked to the ground.

“You’ll work it out.” Puffy said, and George nodded, desperately wanting to believe her.

“I don’t think it’ll hurt if we start living together. Even if we fight, it’s not like I’m going to suddenly not love him.” George muttered.

“Where are you building it?”

“Mmm, somewhere in the middle of town. Right in the middle of things so we can be close to everyone.”

“Is that what you wanted?” Puffy asked, and George snorted.

“Of course not. It was a compromise.” He’d built his first house far away for a reason.

“Oh yeah? So what did you get out of it?”

“I get to add plants and mushrooms.” George replied simply, and Puffy laughed again.

“Like my house?”

“I’d love a house like yours.” George sighed, and smiled at the thought of Dream having to deal with it, George making fun of his complaints of their bright polka dotted roof, and their walls made solely from mushroom stalk. “Dream would probably rather die before living in one though. He likes elaborate and complicated buildings, something practical and sturdy. He’ll have to make do with what I want.”

“Glad to hear he’s reasonable.” Puffy commented. George gave her a look.

“He’s the most stubborn person I know.”

“It sounds like you’re both stubborn.” Puffy said and George scoffed, accepting the light good natured shove on his shoulder with a roll of his eyes.

They started back onto the main path, the wagon clattering behind them stocked full of wood. It was a nice day today; there was sun, hardly any clouds, and the temperature was warm but not over-beating. It was beautiful, and eased some of the pain, George supposed. He didn’t understand how it could be so hard to just _say_ what was wrong. He understood wanting to avoid conflict, but this was a bomb waiting to explode. And the more Dream waited he felt the worse it would be. Or George was just imagining things, making them out to be more than what they were.

They walked off the main path onto a makeshift dirt one and they found Dream, cloak thrown aside with his undershirt sleeveless and precariously hanging off of scaffolding. To say that he and George put little work into their plans earlier that morning was an understatement, and that was clear judging by the roughly placed foundation, and the scaffolding branching out every which way.

They talked very little that morning. 

George did not wake up first, and Dream didn’t leave him, keeping his promise. He stayed pressed against him, and rubbed his back when he finally started to wake. George was glad to be snuggled into his side, but he didn’t want to look at him. At the end of the day, George wanted to avoid this as much as Dream did. It hurt to be so upset with him. George wanted this to be easier.

He drew with a finger on Dream’s chest, and resolved to just sit in silence for a moment longer, to draw it out for as long as possible. It was simple like this. They were happy like this. They could pretend they were a normal couple, could pretend they were cuddling before one would have to leave for work, could pretend that everything was fine and that one wasn’t deceiving the other, and vice versa. One look at Dream’s chest though and it was clear they were hardly a normal couple.

Hell, one look at George’s chest and it was clear. They both donned the bodies of those who had been through war, Dream especially. Dream’s whole body looked as if it had been torn to shreds from years of toil and pain, and George’s wither incident from a few weeks ago certainly didn’t help anything.

George began to trace a particularly large scar before Dream grabbed his hand and stopped it in its tracks. George laid his palm flat, intertwining his hand with Dream’s. He squeezed, and George squeezed back.

“Hi.” Dream spoke first.

“Hello.”

“How’d you sleep?”

“Fine.”

“You were up late the night before.”

“So were you.”

They slipped back into silence, and Dream pulled him closer, arm around his shoulders. It felt awkward. They both sounded as if they were going to attack the other, to accuse the other. But at the same time, George didn’t think he’d ever felt safer, tangled in Dream, skin against skin.

“I’m not ready.” Dream murmured finally, and George nodded. It wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but he expected it.

George’s eyes dragged up to meet his. “I need you to promise me, Dream.”

Dream took a moment, processing the gravity of George’s murmur. “Sure. Anything.” He replied, voice softer and slipping into the tone George had grown familiar with. It eased a sliver of his anxieties, reminding him that Dream _was_ open to him. They had both been through hell together, and then their own fair shares of hell, and have relied on the other several times to get through them.

It was insane, how much had happened especially in these few years. Wars, _Sapnap_ engaged, _George_ married, _Dream_ engaged, more wars, death… George inhaled deeply, and forced himself to keep talking.

“No more lies, okay? When you have to do something, you need to tell me why. No making excuses.”

Dream grumbled the moment after George finished, and George glared at him, threatening to pull away. “Fine,” Dream groused, and George squeezed their hands once more. “I’ll try.”

“Thanks, Dream.” George murmured, and Dream paused.

“You know I do love you, right? Do you think I’m lying—or whatever—about _that?_ ”

George dropped his eyes. “No, Dream.” He sighed. “And I love you too.”

The moment passed, and Dream sniffed, neither of them making a move to pull away from the other.

“You know, I’m getting really tired of this bed.”

“It’s _supposed_ to be a hospital bed, Dream.”

“Well yeah I _know,_ but aren’t you tired of it? Aren’t you tired of… here?”

George looked back up at him, surprised. “You still want to?” He asked, and Dream sighed.

“I never stopped, George.” He said, and it was quiet in the way that made George’s heart soar. It was so little, such a tiny change in inflection, and yet George felt as if butterfly kisses have ravaged his chest.

“Then… can we?” George asked, and Dream’s face brightened. “Today?”

So they were building a house.

Dream hung upside down and faced them, knees locked on a bar high above. George rolled his eyes with a chuckle, and Dream reached for him.

“I am _not_ —”

“Oh _come on,_ George,” Dream teased, hands bunching into fists on his shirt from where they could grab. “You can’t tell me you’ve _never_ wanted to.”

“You are such an idiot.” George shook his head but gave in before he whined anymore, pulling Dream’s mask down his forehead to peck his lips quickly; just enough to leave Dream satisfied and for George not to be utterly grossed out by the position. When he pulled away, he let Dream’s mask fall back to his face with a snap, making him cry out in alarm.

“Oi, get a room, would you?” Someone shouted out to them, and George was surprised by the voice. He looked up further into the scaffolding, shielding his eyes from the sun with a hand, to spot Ponk, lazily dangling. George grinned.

“What are you doing here?” He smiled, and Dream’s hold got infinitely more loose, as if he were annoyed and George had touched an obviously sore subject. But George couldn’t help it, Ponk was as much as George’s friend as he was Dream’s, if not more. It was a nice surprise to see him here.

“I’m _supposed_ to be on a date right now.” Ponk called out to him, petulant. George’s face dropped; he hardly expected that response.

“You’re dating someone?” He asked, a smile quirking in the corners of his mouth.

“Well pretty soon I _might not be_.” Ponk declared, and George and Puffy both looked down into the crater below the foundation where they both heard a scoff.

Sam sat up from where he was laying, wrench and redstone in hand. “Ponkie,” Sam frowned, indignant, “ _Don’t say that._ ” He called out to him, and laid back down.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t always working, eh?” Ponk retorted, and Dream dropped from the scaffolding with an exaggerated mimicry of a groan, greeting George properly and tugging him to his side. “The first time you take time off and this is how you spend it?” 

“Sam, go treat your boyfriend to some lunch.” Puffy called down to him, and Sam muttered something under his breath before sitting up again, head barely visible.

“Just after this and I’ll be done. It won’t take long.”

“You said that twenty minutes ago!” Ponk complained as he began picking his way down the scaffolding. As he got closer, George could see the conniving look in his eyes. Ponk not only enjoyed getting under Sam’s skin, but seemed to be the only person allowed to do so as Sam did nothing more than grumble at him, picking up his pace.

Dream’s hand swiped to George’s hip, and he planted a kiss to his temple. “What do you think so far?” 

“We don’t need anything too big. It looks good.” George said, intending to just go along with whatever Dream was planning and change it later if he wanted.

The rest of the day was more of the same mundane. Sam and Ponk eventually took their leave, Sam practically having been dragged off of the construction site, and Puffy continued to work helping where she could. The only thing insanely out of the mundane were Fundy and another one of L’Manburg’s cabinet members walking by on the prime path. Fundy only glared at them, old jealousy and anger directed mostly at George, but looking past Fundy George didn’t think he recognized his companion.

“Dream, who’s that?” 

Dream was staring just as he was at the pair, continuing to walk along the path. George didn’t know why. Dream’s love for his ex-fiance had never been truthful, what with him practically cheating and sneaking to George’s house for sinful touches late at night, and so when Dream didn’t answer his question it only made George more suspicious.

“Dream?” 

He blinked, and turned to face George with a start.

“Yeah?” 

“I asked who is that?” George repeated, gesturing with a shoulder to the path. Dream looked back over and then shrugged before returning to work, carving out windows in their wall. Puffy was upstairs designating spots for their bedroom and a bathroom, making walls with the wood from earlier, leaving them alone for the meantime.

“I think that’s Ranboo,” Dream replied, moving his head back to face George’s, tearing his eyes away. “He’s an enderman.” 

George scoffed. “And obviously something else. Endermen typically aren’t white as a sheet, are they?” 

Dream didn’t say anything more until they were finished and the sun began to bleed as it set behind rows of trees, the conversation long forgotten.

“Oh thank god.” Dream practically cried as the last piece of wall slid into place. Puffy and George shared a grin, and Dream wasted no time wrapping George in his arms and squeezing, rocking back and forth and from foot to foot as he danced them around in excited relief.

“That took all day, but it looks nice, boys.” Puffy sighed with a smile, wiping her arm across her forehead. It was a quaint little place with three floors. The basement for storage, the first floor for the kitchen and typical appliances, and then the second floor for a huge master bedroom with a bathroom attached. It was amazing how much they were able to finish in only a day.

It was certainly much better than George’s old suite with no windows, reeking of sanitary wipes and blinding white. And even their bed that they’d spent an hour trying to perfect in assembling was nice. The other furniture could wait for tomorrow, they were exhausted.

“Thanks for your help.” Dream stepped away from George and extended a hand to Puffy, who accepted it with a smile. He intended a handshake but instead she lingered, taking his hand into both of hers and nodding meaningfully, searching for his eyes. George watched, taking Puffy’s words from the day before to heart. She had been right, Dream was different. He faded in and out of the familiar, familiar _Dream,_ without notice until one bothered to pay attention.

For George’s own sanity, he figured he needed to start paying more attention.

He was right, in a little way. What he said seemingly ages ago, even though time was moving too fast for him to even realize, about how he didn’t know who Dream was. He simply didn’t. He and Dream fell in love years ago, and it had been on the backburner ever since. And now by chance they were given the opportunity to fall, and fall hard, years later, and so now here they were when a month ago they were as removed from one another as far as they possibly could have been. Their “countries” had been at each other’s necks, and they had no contact with one another after George had asked Dream to _just say he hated him._

The memory burned, and the unknown parts of Dream George couldn’t even begin to unearth seared him. He would need to find out more… on his own. Too much time had passed between them.

“I imagine you boys just want to take it easy, so I’ll be on my way. If you need anything, I’m only a walk away, alright?” Her hand reached up to Dream’s jaw to force him to look at her, and George almost laughed in surprise, the movement pulling him out of his thoughts. It had been slow for Dream to accept much touch to his face, and now Puffy was suddenly allowed. It was funny how Puffy had been so right about her and Dream’s newfound relationship, he wouldn’t have allowed her to touch him otherwise.

She pulled away with a smile and a polite nod to George, and Dream left to walk her out and retrieve his cloak from earlier that morning that he’d thrown aside and not moved since George and Puffy came with the wood. George stood by himself in their room, and wasted no time untying the laces of his shoes and throwing off his goggles so he could collapse on his bed. _Their_ bed. In _their_ room. He buried his face in the pillows with a happy sigh, letting his eyes shut at the softness. He didn’t even care about dinner, right then he wanted nothing more than to slip beneath the sheets and let sleep take him.

He grinned when he heard the front door close downstairs and footsteps start up the stairs, unmoving when the footsteps grew closer and when they stopped at the door with a chuckle. George heard something like the person kicking off their shoes and then felt the bottom of the bed dip with their weight.

George’s nerves suddenly lit aflame, and it took everything in his power not to laugh or make a noise as Dream’s hand fell to his calf, rubbing before slipping under fabric to meet his skin with the spandex feel of his fingerless gloves, and his warm hand. He could feel Dream’s smile and eyes on him without looking, and sighed contentedly when Dream didn’t stop.

Dream didn’t say anything, and George let him. His hand traveled further up into an impromptu massage, and George sincerely felt like he was going to pass out like this. The bed dipped further under his weight as he leaned closer, hand ghosting up his leg and up the curve of his ass to land on his back, pitching up his shirt just a little to slip under. George finally turned to look at him from half lidded eyes, and pouted when he saw that Dream still had his mask on.

A month ago George wouldn’t have dreamed that seeing Dream without his mask would become a norm. _Their_ norm. It was true that George fell in love with Dream with his mask on simply because he fell in love with _Dream,_ not his face, but he found that he fell deeper into his eyes, into his smiles, into his expressions, in the small amount of time they had together, alone.

Dream snorted, catching the look in his eyes, and removed a hand to unclasp the mask and let it fall to their comforter. “Enjoying yourself?” Dream smirked, and George pointedly held his gaze as he snuggled further into their mattress.

“Feels good.” He murmured, and Dream chuckled lightly, hands falling back to George’s back and rubbing, taking care and notice of his scars and burns.

“I could give you an actual massage, you know?” Dream whispered, and George snorted.

“Yeah, right.” He didn’t know where Dream was planning to go with this, but wasn’t about to object either. Dream’s hands _did_ feel good, and he enjoyed ravishing in Dream’s attention anyhow.

“ ‘M serious. We have lotion, and I _could--_ ” Dream’s fingers tapped along his spine impatiently, and George beamed widely into his pillow, hiding his face with an arm. “I could do it. For you.” 

“Ok, Dream.” George murmured quietly, and he felt Dream leave in a rush as the bed bounced back to normal without his weight. George listened with excitement as he dug around in bags and suitcases before he found what he was looking for, returning closer to George that time, hips adjacent to George’s and legs branching off to the side, bent at the knee. The gloves slid off, and were thrown aside. George felt giddy from the sudden attention, the sudden offer that would undoubtedly ease some of the tension in George’s shoulders, his back, his head. He realized he didn’t want to spend their first night alone together any other way.

Dream’s hands fell to his sides, and George whined, toes curling at how cold the liquid on his hands was. It was a direct contrast to Dream’s hands before, and the comfort of their bed, and Dream breathed an apology with a quick touch to his hip as he went to press more into his hand.

“Take off your shirt.” Dream murmured, and George obeyed, sitting up and forcing his shirt over his head before throwing it aside and collapsing face first back into their pillows as if he were dead weight. Dream laughed at him but took it in stride, tracing his hands up his ribcage and then over his shoulder blades, ensuring the lotion covered everything, making already soft skin even smoother as George shivered, before attempting to work out knots. 

George’s brows furrowed as he slipped into the intense pressure Dream’s hands had on him, and considered pointing out that massaging should be less of an intimate thing than as advertised. What he wouldn’t give if Dream’s hands had been on him like this from day one, if it had been socially acceptable for friends to give one another massages, but then Dream leaned forward and pressed a featherlight kiss in between George’s shoulder blades, and all of his thoughts were chased away. This--this was _much_ much better.

George cursed into the pillows and Dream chuckled again, maybe enjoying this a little too much.

“How?” George’s voice was a whisper, he couldn’t bring himself to raise his voice any louder.

“How what?” Dream encouraged with a shit-eating grin, and George scoffed.

“When did you get so good at this?” George forced out, and Dream giggled.

“You think I’m good?” He asked, and before George could reply he whimpered, Dream deciding to attack an especially tight knot in his lower back. George heaved with delight, breath shaky on his exhale as Dream wheezed behind him. The knot came undone, and George turned to glare at him, his smile wide.

“You’re such an idiot.” George muttered, but was too into it to try to move and defy him. And besides, a part of him liked Dream’s stupid, childish teases. Dream’s hands fell back to his sides, an evil, mischievous look in his eye, and George glared at him in warning. “Don’t--”

“It’ll make you feel better.” Dream excused before he even began to do anything, not giving George a chance to retort before moving to his knees and putting even more lotion into his hands, the balm now warm and pleasant on George’s back. 

George felt as if he were being spoiled, and something dark and twisted in his stomach decided he wanted more.

Dream was determined, and it was obvious as he put all of his pressure in his palms and repeated the same minstrations again and again, George fading in and out of consciousness through a mixture of pleasure and pain. He ached but the newfound looseness in his joints outweighed all negatives, and Dream was sickeningly sweet to him. He moved up to his shoulders and into his neck, and George felt as though he were about to die when Dream leaned forward to pepper in kisses at his neck in a decided line from his collar to the tip of his ear, lips lingering everytime, taking certain focus in solving George’s shoulders, swallowed whole by the largeness that were Dream’s hands. Blindly George felt around with his hand at his sides for Dream and grabbed his knee in appreciation, too far gone to even try and say anything other than nonsense. He felt Dream’s smile on the back of his neck at the gesture, shamelessly wet and warm, and let himself be dragged when Dream pulled away and softly began to turn George over and onto his back.

He felt just as if he were floating in clouds, deep affection and adoration clouding his vision in deep pinks and reds as his arms moved without him asking, reaching for Dream and pulling him in. Dream abided and leaned down to meet him, hand splaying on George’s bare stomach to brace himself as their lips met.

It had been days since they last kissed one another, and George considered regretting all of the arguing they’ve done. A voice in the back of his head started to yell that their arguments _were_ valid before he tossed away those thoughts altogether. George’s face twisted and he kissed Dream harder, harder, until Dream’s pupils were blown and he had to pull away to fight for his breath.

They stared at one another, and George smirked.

“You’re such an idiot.” Dream repeated George’s words from earlier, but this time it was hushed and fawning with shock. George bursted into high-pitched laughter, and pulled Dream in again so that finally he was laying beside him instead of on his knees far from George’s hands.

George groped for him until he was eye to eye with his chest, forehead pressed just below his collarbone. Their legs intertwined, and selfishly George wanted more friction.

He picked up his head and kissed Dream again, tracing his hand down the curvature of Dream’s arm as Dream moved them closer together, stomach to stomach, hip to hip. The arm George had been stroking moved, hand falling to his hair to brush it out of his eyes, and George leaned into it, smiling drearily, tired.

“You’re hot.” Dream whispered, deep and heavy with emotion George knew well, and George felt his heart begin to beat more rapidly than before.

“Am I?” George decided to play, and slotted their bodies closer together, hand sliding over Dream’s side to his back, wishing that the spandex shirt was off.

“Yeah. And pretty, too.” Dream continued, and that caused George’s skin to blossom into deep reds, closing his eyes and straining to reach up and kiss along Dream’s jaw, so close that Dream could rest his head over George’s.

George stared ahead for a moment, before grinning slyly. “When you look at me, Dream, what do you think about?” 

Dream pulled away to meet his eyes, and George laughed with a shake of his head.

“ _Other_ than the fact that I’m pretty, or hot, or _whatever._ ” George explained, and Dream chuckled, pausing to think.

“I think about how much I love you, I think about this—this feeling in my chest that aches when I see you, I think of your eyes and how I want to kiss you when you fall asleep and tuck you in, I think about how I want to take care of you and keep you safe, I…” He trailed off, failing to catch George’s sleepy grin as he nuzzled further into his chest. Dream only talked hurriedly like this if he were _passionate_ , stumbling over words to try and get out everything in his head. This pause was necessary, and Dream swallowed. “I also think about how I almost lost you, sometimes. I think about your chest, your heartbeat, how it had slipped away for a second and how I had to bring you back. I think about the fear I have of losing you, how you mean the world to me.” 

George felt himself pang with guilt, and pulled away to meet Dream’s gaze. He should have expected nothing less than heavy, sad eyes full of love and gentle admiration for him, but it surprised him anyway and George felt the urge to cry. 

_Feeling like you were loved?_ The best feeling imaginable. George couldn’t begin to describe it: the joy and the hurt all at once.

George pushed himself away and climbed on top of Dream, pressing his shoulders to lay flat rather than on his side. He straddled him, and let his hands fall to his stomach. Dream’s eyes were wide and blown with surprise as he looked up at George, and George wanted to take all of him. He brushed a hand over Dream’s cheeks, freckled and red, and George wanted the blush to spread down to his chest. 

Dream’s hands fell to his hips and tugged, hair falling out of his bun and splaying like a crown behind him, and he mewled under George’s touch when he didn’t stop. Dream gasped for air and George busied himself elsewhere, kissing his forehead, his cheeks, his jaw. He didn’t stop, and he could feel Dream’s heart working overtime beneath him, beating out of his chest.

George skirted backwards until he was sitting on his hips, and prodded at the waistline of Dream’s pants, where his shirt was tucked inside. Dream hastily began untying them, hands fumbling in his hurry, George trying to help, before they both jumped at a very sudden and a very loud series of knocks on their door.

They stared at each other in terror, before Dream grabbed him by the arms and softly pushed him away, rolling off of the bed mask in hand and dashing downstairs, hurriedly undoing their progress, tying his pants back together, and stumbling down the steps. George felt his cheeks darken at the very real possibility of whoever it was at the door _hearing them,_ no longer tired as adrenaline forced him to retrieve his shirt that was discarded at the side of the bed and throw it over his head to join Dream downstairs.

Who the hell was at their door, and more importantly _why_ had they come at such a late hour? Were they clueless? As George began to get closer to the front door, he realized that they probably were, in fact clueless, his frustration ebbing away.

George trained his expression and willed his cheeks to lessen in their heat. He cleared his throat, and Dream’s head snapped over to him where he was unsuccessfully trying to be inconspicuous, the door hardly open and Dream blocking the inside of the house with most of his body.

When George got closer the door opened the rest of the way, and George steeled himself.

“Hey, George! We just wanted to drop off some food as a congratulations for moving in! We figured you guys were probably too tired to cook, so.” Bad was beaming down at them, and Dream wordlessly and awkwardly grabbed the food out of his hands, balancing the tray on his arm. Some type of lasagna or casserole, or something. “I had no idea you guys were going to finish so quick!”

“Neither did we.” George answered politely, accidentally meeting Skeppy’s eye who already looked pale. Actually, he looked mortified, and when he turned back to Dream he tugged hard on Bad’s sleeve. George wasn’t sure he was glad that Skeppy realized what they had stumbled upon or not. Mentally he assessed himself. Did he look weird? Was his hair messed up? Was he wearing all of his _clothes--_

“We were just going to stop by. We’re going now.” Skeppy blurted, and Bad looked down at him in confusion, as if he were being rude.

“ _What_ \--”

“So happy for you guys, let’s go, Bad.” Skeppy forced a smile, and Bad looked to Dream and George apologetically.

“Oh, uh, well, I guess we’ll see you later. Have a nice night!” Bad smiled, and the door was promptly shut. Dream leaned into the door, and pressed his forehead against it as if he were catching his breath.

“Oh my god.” George whispered, and Dream shook his head, locking the door with his free hand.

“One more minute and Bad would have beat me up.” He muttered, and George laughed, pacing closer to lift up the foil from the food they had dropped off. It really was a nice offer; Bad was right about them not feeling like cooking, and it looked very good as Bad’s cooking always was.

“Let’s eat. And then we can…”

“Go back upstairs.” Dream finished for him, and George nodded, following him into their new kitchen with a smile.

“Yes.” He said, and dropped a hand to his back.

\--

_”Damn thing should be around here somewhere…”_

_To say that Dream was grossed out by the current state of Schlatt’s house was an understatement. He knew that the man refused to live in the White house—he was literally tearing it down a few hours ago—but maybe he should have reconsidered. This was a shack. A shack filled with alcohol and papers_ everywhere _._

_Dream’s feet were glued at the entrance for a quick exit if Schlatt had the stupid idea to pull something quick on him. The man was currently hunched over his desk, thumbing through papers, opening and closing drawers, in search of something._

_“Why can’t you tell me what it is?”_

_“You wouldn’t believe me. And besides, if someone stole it from me I’d rather you not have_ me _connected.”_

_“You say that as if_ you _stole it.”_

_“That’s because I did. It doesn’t matter who had it first. I found it in your uh, friend’s_ boyfriend’s _house. That annoying, lanky one with brown hair that laughs too loud that Quackity likes for some reason. He wears this stupid sweatshirt--” He turned to Dream, who nodded. He was able to figure out who he was talking about. Schlatt then lifted his hand, a small, black book with a leather binding in his hand. He looked at it with contempt. “It’s mine now.”_

_Schlatt tossed it over, and Dream passed it over in his hands curiously, raising a brow. Nothing suspicious on the outside, what could a little book like this do to convince Dream to fight a war? He eyed Schlatt suspiciously, who wasn’t watching and pouring himself another glass of ugly, dark liquid. Dream tsked to himself and finally thumbed the book open to a page in the middle._

_And then he slammed it shut._

_“What is this?”_

_“You can read, can’t you?” Schlatt still wouldn’t look at him, and fell slowly into his seat at the desk, hooking a leg with his foot and turning it to face Dream._

_Dream ignored him and decided to try again, this time starting with the first page. He glanced through the contents, and looked back up at Schlatt._

_“Where the hell did you get this?”_

_“I already told you, man. Ask_ him _.” Schlatt muttered, taking a sip of his drink. “You fight for me, and the book’s yours.”_

_“But this is--” It went against natural order, and made Dream’s stomach ache._

_“You don’t strike me as the type to let something like this slip by. Be smart about this, Dream.”_

_Dream_ was _being smart. How the fuck did Karl have anything to do with this? Did Sapnap know? Why was Schlatt able to find it? Did Karl keep it where people could find it, or did this old man really dig through all of their belongings for something valuable?_

_“Does it work?” Dream found himself asking._

_“Haven’t tried it. I think I read something about it only working once, or some shit, but I only glanced through it. I don’t have anyone I wanna bring back who’d_ wanna _be brought back.”_

_Dream looked through a few more pages, ingredients and potion mixtures spilling over each and every page, breathing to life something sinister and evil, something for no mortal’s eyes._

_“Do we have a deal?” Schlatt asked, finishing his drink in a single gulp. Dream slowly closed the book, smoothing his hand over the cover. He slid the book into a pocket in his cloak, and met his drunken gaze._

_“At dusk, tomorrow.” Dream announced, and Schlatt smirked up at him. “Are you free to discuss battle plans?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> George got cockblocked LMAO
> 
> listen I know no one wanted this to happen but this story does happen to be rated teen and Bad totally would insist on visiting them their first night alone together
> 
> Also just so y’all know—that scene was not scripted at all LOL the back massage was not meant to happen, nor was anything after. It’s literally the day before I’m supposed to be posting this and I was going to finish this chapter to get a head start on the next one and then I accidentally made this the longest chapter in this fic
> 
> so y’all are welcome, you got some extra dnf *cries* it’s lowkey slim pickings around here I promise I’ll feed y’all properly soon, more angst first ((don’t tell anyone))
> 
> I normally don’t write ending notes like this but I hope you enjoyed!! find me on Twitter if you’d like at kixyme where I post reminders of updates 
> 
> ALSO this is important; because I do weekly updates and this plot is so different from the SMP’s canon do you guys want a quick recap at the start of each chapter? I’d be glad to do that :) ok bye for real this time


	8. Quackity IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sapnap is paid a third visit in prison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi short and sweet note today. I hope you guys enjoy!! Please look at the tags as I have added on since last time, and things get kind of serious and sad so stay safe and don’t read if you are uncomfortable!! 
> 
> Quick recap: Dream and George have built their house, and things become kind of domestic. George isn’t happy that Dream hasn’t told him what’s going on with him, but is willing to be patient and wait for him. Sapnap, Quackity, and Karl have all given their statements to what happened on the day of the incident and are all still in prison.
> 
> CW: Panic attacks, derealization, dissociation  
> ((please let me know if there is something I have not tagged, I will gladly add it))

Sapnap decided that he preferred Dream or even Sam’s company much rather than sitting by himself.

Back in the old days prisons were never this sophisticated. Sapnap had no idea how Sam and Dream were able to create something so sinister and secure out of nothing. In the old days the cells were side by side in sewer-like catacombs beneath castles. You could reach over and touch the person in the cell next to yours. Obviously that was before Dream left with everyone in search of new land, and before all of those kingdoms fell out of power due to rebellions. When the era of monarchy was decimated.

Sapnap _could_ have contact with Quackity and Karl had this been an older prison, no matter how disgusting it would have been. He thought that would be worth it to this: to being alone. He busied himself in workouts instead. Push-ups, sit-ups, planks, until he was sweaty and exhausted for hours at a time. No contact at all from them was surprising. He was expecting at least Sam, but admittedly he probably didn’t have to be there 24/7. The prison was _that_ good, and Sapnap supposed even he needed breaks. Sam was just doing his job.

Today he was just idly sitting. He was sore from so much exertion yesterday after not having any for a long time, as he and Dream’s scuffle from a few days ago didn’t count, and the lack of food from what Sapnap typically ate was probably deteriorating some of the muscle he had.

So, he sat.

It was crazy to him that Karl and Quackity were a walk away and that he couldn’t see them. He went from seeing them everyday for months to not seeing them for a week and having no information on whether or not they were okay. Dream could easily be lying to him, and if it were for good reason Sam would lie too.

But still. He knew that he got the best treatment out of the three of them, anyway. Dream visited or Sam visited almost everyday. But how often was Quackity visited? How often did he get visitors in that shitty cell? Why were Sapnap and Karl lucky enough to see one another and Quackity wasn’t? Was Quackity fucking _okay_?

Sapnap glanced up to the security camera and scowled, hating the feeling that eyes were always on him. It had felt like that before, with Dream before everything went to hell, but it was clear and unbidden now. He shouldn’t be here. None of them should be here right now.

And yet here he was, absolutely powerless.

An hour later after the daily potato drop around what he assumed was lunchtime he started to hear footsteps. He pushed himself to his feet, and lazily walked over to the bars, trying to get a glimpse of who was coming.

He wasn’t surprised to see the flashes of greens and purples, and rested his elbows on the sill as he watched them walk closer. He pulled away as they arrived at his cell, and waited for them to open the door and come in, interrogate him about something or other. He stole a bite from the potato in his hand.

The door opened, and no one came inside.

“Come on out, you’re being let go.”

Sapnap almost choked on his potato. He ducked forward to the door, brow raised. “What?”

“You’ve been found innocent, let’s get you out of here.” Dream said, and Sapnap could hear his smile. He couldn’t believe it, and looked to Sam who nodded in approval. Wordlessly he followed Dream and Sam out, hardly believing this was happening. It happened fast; and they were suddenly out of the main hall and heading toward the exit. It was just earlier that he had been thinking about not being able to see Karl and Quackity as much as he liked, and now, _finally_ , he could see both of them again. The prison on his way out was a blur.

They stepped through the portals and Sapnap’s eyes widened at the plains of grass just outside the entrance. He didn’t think he’d be so happy to see the outside, but apparently a few weeks in prison did a few things to you. He started forward and almost laughed to himself as he stepped bare-footed into the grass, feeling it between his toes. It was so much better than the hard-cut blackstone and obsidian. Dream’s hand fell to his shoulder, and he looked up at him in gleeful awe.

“How do you feel?” Dream asked, and Sapnap smiled. He was too excited to be mad or upset with Dream, forgetting for a minute their last few weeks and instead focusing on the person who was supposed to be his best friend, happy for him and with a hand on his shoulder.

“Awesome.” Sapnap breathed, and they turned over their shoulders to Sam who was lugging two bags in hand. 

“This was what you had on you when you were brought into the prison.” Sam said, and Sapnap sighed with relief to see that all of his weapons and armor were still there, and that people hadn’t taken advantage of him. He slung the bags over his shoulders, and looked back out toward the SMP. 

As he looked, he felt the happiness drain from him, his smile fading rapidly into a frown.

Somehow, this felt too good to be true. Somehow there had to be a catch. Dream wasn’t one to just let go of things, he held onto them with an iron fist. Dream was one to hold a grudge, no matter what he said or how he acted. Sapnap knew him too well.

“We’re all really free?” Sapnap asked, staring straight ahead and narrowing his eyes as none of the two men tried to speak right away. He turned over his shoulder, and shot them a glare. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Sam looked at Dream for backup, but Dream didn’t move, keeping his head pointed toward Sapnap, expression unreadable. Sam crossed his arms with a sigh. “No other prisoner is being let go at this time.” He said, and Sapnap coughed.

“What?” He felt as if all of the air had been pushed out of his body.

“At this time, no other prisoner is being let go.” Sam repeated, and dropped his eyes. He didn’t want to see the dark look that passed over Sapnap’s face, or the way his hands clenched at the straps of the bags, sizzling the leather. Dream didn’t move.

“Why?” He demanded. “Quackity-- _Karl,_ at least, he should be…”

Sam put up his hands. “We didn’t say never. Just not yet.”

“You’re joking.” Sapnap said, and he felt sick to his stomach. He didn’t know why he got his hopes up in the first place. In his own statement he’d admitted that the plan was initially Quackity’s, but that didn’t change the fact that he encouraged it and was involved, did it? And even then what damage was their fault when George’s death had been Technoblade’s doing? Technoblade never said how he wanted to _kill_ George or blow up the main portal. It wasn’t Quackity’s or any of their faults.

So why the hell was Karl not standing next to him?

What could have Karl possibly said in his statement that made him guiltier than him? Quackity he could understand, but Sapnap had sat right there next to Karl. He didn’t think Karl said anything incriminating, and was just telling the truth like he said to do. The only possible explanation was that they were holding him for some unrelated reason. And the only _unrelated_ reason that came to mind was the time traveling. Was it really that obvious that something suspicious was going on, or did Sam and Dream simply not trust them?

They didn’t respond, and so Sapnap started for home without another word.

And they let him.

The closer he got to the house, the more run-down everything seemed. Weeds were growing everywhere, nothing had been tended to for weeks, and the house itself was a mess. Sapnap felt himself ache as he stepped closer. Shattered glass littered the front lawn, windows were blown and gaping. Their door was left open, the lock broken and beyond repair.

On the inside things were thrown everywhere, and Sapnap had to grab his shoes out of the bag Sam gave him just to walk in his house. Their table was overturned, valuables and objects were strewn all over the floor, the fridge was ransacked and disgusting with expired food, and the pantry and their cabinets were empty, their remnants thrown to the floor and the counters. The other rooms looked equally awful. Their bedroom had papers everywhere from Quackity’s desk, logs and official documents crumpling with every step Sapnap took into the room. The comforter and pillows were thrown to the floor, drawers emptied and searched, all still open. And some things Sapnap couldn’t figure out if they had been stolen or if they were simply misplaced.

It didn’t hit him; the home he had made with the men he loved, that he had built and maintained and protected with his life, the home that held all of their memories both good and bad, where they had cried and laughed in each other’s arms--it didn’t hit him until he realized how alone he was, sitting down on his bed in the dark, the world silent around him, that he had nothing.

None of Karl’s laughing, none of Quackity’s jeers. None of Karl’s kisses, or Quackity’s hugs where he wrapped his wings around you. Just absolute silence that swallowed him whole. Everything he worked for, everything that motivated him to wake up in the morning ripped from his hands by the person who was supposed to be his best friend when he was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. 

How dare he? How dare _Sapnap_ try to create something good for himself, how dare _Sapnap_ fall in love with people other than Dream, and work for wants and needs that weren’t Dream’s. How _dare_ he. How could he be so foolish, to want something that didn’t align with Dream’s agenda? How could he be so foolish, when Dream had strings tied to every limb of his body, and Sapnap was just another nameless soldier for him to lead?

Sapnap fell forward where he sat, elbows on his knees and face in his hands. He felt himself shake, felt dread and despair creep over him until it split him, until it tore him apart and he couldn’t begin to calm himself, having nothing to ease the pain. He was terrified. He couldn’t escape. He was suffocating. He was supposed to be the strong one, he was the one who was supposed to defend Karl and Quackity, and he had failed them. Dream overpowered him and Sapnap had failed him.

He didn’t know what the fuck Dream wanted from him. Couldn’t discern whether the smiles were all fake, or if Dream really did just see him as something to be used in battle. If Dream respected him at all he would stop the lying, would stop threatening him. But Sapnap knew that whether Dream respected him or not, he could do whatever he wanted and get away with it simply because Sapnap couldn’t fight back. Dream would much rather murder Karl and Quackity in front of him than give him a say in literally anything he did, and Sapnap couldn’t do anything about it.

And on top of that, there was no telling what Dream was capable of with George gone. Sapnap didn’t know that he had been on his last life. He would have thought that George would have told him or backed out. _Why hadn’t George told him?_ He thought that they were closer than that. And George must have taken a toll on Dream; his behavior over the last few days would make sense, and judging by how he had straight up _threatened_ him a few days ago Sapnap had a feeling it was true. He wasn’t lying when he said Dream might like George.

That felt like years ago.

He dragged his hands down his face and sat, contemplating. He needed to find a way to make everything better. He had failed them, but he would give his life if he could do anything to make Karl and Quackity feel just a little better. He loved them too much to just let go, he needed an alternative.

He needed to find a way to outsmart Dream, to see them and help them but still abide by Dream’s every command. Sapnap needed to learn how to give in, without letting everything go.

\--

He woke up the next day surrounded by mess.

Sapnap groaned, stretching and shivering. He cringed when he swung his legs over the side of the bed, glass brushing his foot. He didn’t remember going to bed. He must’ve passed out or something, and he was glad he did. He probably wouldn’t have been able to sleep otherwise. 

After sleeping next to two people for so long, clinging to him, he got used to it. Quackity and Karl both insisted on sleeping on the ends. Quackity because of his wings and because he often had to get out of bed early, and Karl because he often became restless, needing to leave in the middle of the night or to slip under the covers hours after Sapnap and Quackity fell asleep without disrupting anything when he disappeared for the day. Sapnap was used to people on either side of him, hugging or laying on him to stay warm. So needless to say it felt like something was amiss when he slept alone, unaccustomed to the chill and emptiness that he was certain he’d grow to hate.

Blearily he tried to recall what he had worked through yesterday. He paced into their bathroom and prayed for the water to still be running, in dire need of a proper shower. Yesterday he had decided to do everything in his ever-so limited power to do what he could for Karl and Quackity.

He needed to figure out what exactly they were convicted for, and more importantly how long they were sentenced to stay in prison. He could only hope that neither were long. Dream had already done them damage; he had taken away their country, destroyed their home, separated them… months more in the prison would do nothing for anyone involved. 

He almost cried when he saw the water start to drip out of the showerhead, relieved. Maybe the house wasn’t as bad as he thought. It was salvageable. Sure, he’d have to throw out more than half of their belongings, broken or ruined, but it wasn’t everything. The water ran. The lights worked. It would suffice.

If Sapnap threw one of Karl’s old sweaters overhead and stuffed one of Quackity’s beanies in his pocket, he didn’t mention it. Awake and drained of all sadness from yesterday, he made another lap around the house scrutinizing all that he would have to fix and clean. Ideally, he would fix everything to the point where Karl and Quackity wouldn’t realize what happened. It didn’t have to be another thing added to their plate.

It felt weird to be this alone. Not only did not having Karl and Quackity hurt, but now he had no idea who his friends were. It had been Dream and George who were the closest, and then Bad, Punz, and all of the other original members of the server closely following, but did Dream just tell them to like him, or had all of his friendships been genuine? He didn’t know.

Distantly he thought that Quackity would have some sort of retort to that; something super smart to tell him that he was wrong, a perspective he’d never considered, the thing he was pointing out seemingly the most obvious solution in the world. He liked that about Quackity. They were so different but Quackity balanced him out, strong where he was weak. Sapnap wished he were here, and wished that he didn’t hate him for throwing him under the bus.

He actually _really_ wished Quackity didn’t hate him for doing that.

Dream had promised Sapnap—probably a stupid thing to trust—that Quackity and Karl would be okay if Sapnap told the truth. Sapnap telling the truth would have to be one of the first things they talk about he supposed, when he visited Quackity.

He walked out onto his front lawn and turned, taking in the sight of his house in the morning sun. It looked dilapidated and if it hadn’t been lived in for months. He wanted to lay down on the ground and sink into the grass at the thought of having to fix and clean everything. Selfishly he figured he could probably hold off, he didn’t have to do _everything_ at once as long as he finished before they came home, right? Which meant he should probably figure out when they were being let out.

Instead of starting to work laziness took precedence, and he found himself walking into town. It looked different from when he’d last been here. It had only been a little bit of time, but new buildings had popped up and there were weird, ugly red vines everywhere. 

There were new faces, too. Or at least people he didn’t recognize by name, walking by him and waving to be polite, knowing _him_ by name. He waved back uncertaintly, out of his element. There was no telling who he could trust.

Hell, he didn’t even trust Dream and yet he was the very person he was on his way to see.

Sapnap finally saw a familiar face and felt himself relax. He and Niki didn't get along great but the water has flown under the bridge of their past fighting, and he didn’t think she disliked him too much anymore. She smiled politely when he reached out for her and stopped her and her companion on the path, again unsure of her smile’s genuinity, and he eyed her and her companion’s matching rings and felt his own ring burn as a reminder.

“Hey,” he greeted nervously, kicking himself for being so awkward already. It didn’t used to be like this, and the worried glint that flashed in both of their eyes didn’t help. “Would you be able to point me in the direction of where Dream is? I don’t know where the guy lives anymore.”

Not that Sapnap knew where Dream lived in the first place ever since moving here.

The pair exchanged a glance, and the one Sapnap didn’t know too well spoke up.

“I’d be glad to take you. He’s probably at his house.” She said, and Niki was already gladly taking the basket of flowers out of her hand and hanging it on her own arm. Sapnap blinked, he hadn't expected their sudden willingness to help him.

“Thanks so much, that’d be great.” He hesitated. “I’m Sapnap, by the way.” 

She looked up at him and grinned, extending her hand. “Puffy.”

They shook hands, and Niki nodded to them. “Will I see you back at the shop?”

“Yep! It’s not a long walk.” Puffy grinned, and they started off. Sapnap felt oddly older and reminiscent as she began to lead him, just then recognizing how long it had been since they’d moved here. It wasn’t that long ago that he’d been the one giving people tours, but it was like he didn’t know where he was anymore. It was weird how time changed like that.

“So. How long have you been living here?” He found himself asking to fill the silence.

“Oh, I moved here a little after Wilbur died.” She replied, and Sapnap noted to himself that maybe he should have noticed her. She’d been around for a long time, there was a good chance he’d stood by her side at least once.

“Are you with Dream?” He asked, and it was an important question. It let him know where they stood. He didn’t care if it would spoil her first impression of him.

Puffy looked at him out of the corner of her eye curiously before returning to the path ahead of them. “I’m actually not sure. Right now I’m neutral, I guess. I helped Dream build his house.” She shrugged, and Sapnap remembered the ring on her hand. Niki was as opposite to Dream as she was to Sapnap, Puffy must’ve been stuck right in between. That was probably where he was now, too.

She suddenly stopped, and Sapnap blinked at her confused, eyeing the house in front of them with suspicion.

“This is it.”

“Dream lives in a house with _mushrooms_?” He asked, and Sapnap gawked when she elbowed him in the side.

“What’s wrong with mushrooms? _I_ live in a mushroom house.”

“There’s nothing wrong,” He hurriedly fixed, looking it up and down. “I just didn’t think Dream would ever live in one.” He said, and turned to face her. “Thanks for showing me the way.”

“No problem. You’re good on your own?” She asked, concern in her eyes, and Sapnap nodded to her before he ended up spilling to a stranger. It was as if she could tell he was trouble, or that something was about to happen. They said their goodbyes, Puffy going back the way they came, and Sapnap turned to stare at the door.

Why did he feel sick trying to knock?

It was like this churning feeling in his stomach, anxiety nipping at him. He thought that maybe he didn’t want to see Dream. Maybe he had unresolved anger toward Dream and would end up fighting with him at the drop of a hat. Maybe Dream would turn away and refuse to help him.

It was almost embarrassing. He went from being Dream’s right hand man to someone who was outcasted. How do you even begin to amend that?

He groaned, and decided to knock before he regret it. Worst case scenario, Sapnap takes off and runs the opposite direction. Dream was excruciatingly fast and would definitely catch up to him, but Sapnap ventured to guess Dream would decide not to waste his energy on him. It was a simple question anyway, he would be there for two minutes maximum. _When are Karl and Quackity being let out,_ and then he would leave.

The anticipation killed him as he waited. It wasn’t that early, and Dream didn’t sleep in. He should be here if he were home, and mentally Sapnap cursed to himself because if he wasn’t home he had to go on another hunt for him despite Puffy’s help. He was about to turn on his heel and start back on the main path before he heard Dream creak down the stairs on the inside, unsure whether he felt terror or relief at the sound. He threw all of those thoughts away and braced himself to be cool, calm, and collected instead as the footsteps grew closer.

The knob began to turn, and all Sapnap braced himself for was for nothing.

In a split second he knew something was wrong. One glimpse and Sapnap knew this wasn’t Dream, they were much too short. As Sapnap dragged his gaze down in microseconds his head was blaring _wrong, wrong, wrong_ and warning signs began to flash in front of his eyes.

The person in front of him simply wasn’t real. There was no possible—there _wasn’t—_ unless Dream had…

His tongue went dry and he said nothing. He’s robbed of all speech, and he couldn’t even read the look on George’s face. The shock and denial made him forget, and it came in full, unrelenting force seconds after the door had opened.

George opened his mouth to say something, anything, but Sapnap couldn’t stand anymore. He dropped to his knees, his legs unable to hold him. It was almost a collapse, narrowly catching himself on his hands, staring at George as if he were seeing him in a nightmare.

This is what convinced him that he was too far gone, that his mind was messing with him, because George couldn’t be real. He was supposed to be dead, Dream had made him _think_ that George was dead and that he killed him, and Sapnap had already grieved. George’s death was Sapnap’s fault.

Sapnap continued to spiral, and didn’t see or hear much of anything. He felt himself wallow and bask in it; the turmoil and the anguish of George healthy and alive. He wasn’t even sure if he were happy or sad to see him. He bathed in that feeling and anger until it swallowed him whole.

Distantly he thought he heard shouting overhead, but he was blinded. He hated. He felt everything. He felt the way his world had ended when he watched Karl die and explode in front of him, and when their camp had been found a week ago and Quackity had shaken him awake, the look on his face, ugly and horrible and terrified, begging him for safety he couldn’t provide. He felt hands on both arms trying to lift him, and when his head fell forward he realized he wasn’t blinded.

He was seeing smoke.

The inhale he took was harsh, and when he picked his head up the world began to clear. He gasped for air and looked toward the sky, taking in the blue that drowned out his red and deep grays.

He blinked his tears away, evaporating on his skin. His eyes moved but landed on nothing of interest. He focused on finding his feet but found himself swaying anyway, only just registering the people standing at either side of him trying to keep him steady when he didn't fall over.

The voices began to come into focus. He turned his head to his left toward one of the voices, brow crinkling as his eyes focused and adjusted.

He felt his heart twist with betrayal and joy at once, and he shouldn’t have been surprised. It was Dream saving him, pulling him out of his hell, and Sapnap thought he appreciated him for it. He ached at the thought that Dream had been the one that tossed him down there in the first place.

“Go get water! He’s drying himself out!” His left ear. Sapnap stared, unable to tell if this was real.

“Fuck, it burns, man.” Someone gritted out in his right.

“It’s fine.” Dream snapped back, and blearily Sapnap felt water get pushed to his lips, and he drank, the hold on his arms loosening. He found his footing slowly and surely, and finally recognized Punz next to him. 

He coughed, and Dream’s hand fell to his back. He turned his head to find Dream smiling at him, and it made his blood run cold. How could he try to be comforting? How could he try to make him feel better, and give him false hope? Sapnap straightened, and wasted no more time, turning on his heel to get out of there. It wasn’t a run, more of a stumble at best, but he wasn’t sure whether or not he wanted Dream to catch him.

“What was that?!” George asked, and Dream cursed something under his breath.

“Punz, just go. Go follow him.” Dream ordered harshly, and George continued to sputter.

“I don’t understand what’s happening, why did Sapnap—” Dream guided him backward, as if to steer him away from a crime scene.

“Come inside.” Dream said. Sapnap stared at the ash and the burns on the path he had left in his wake. Had he done that? Had he caused a fire?

Sapnap jolted at the hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?” Punz asked.

Sapnap didn’t have the energy. “No.” He muttered, and started off back toward his house. Punz followed at his side, staring at his face to try and get his attention. When he stumbled, Punz held him by the arm and let him lean.

“You can trust me, you know that right?” Punz asked, and Sapnap snorted.

“Do I?” Sapnap asked, and Punz made a noise.

“Whatever you’re thinking, I didn’t do it, man.”

“I don’t have any reason to believe you.” Sapnap muttered. Punz grimaced, narrowing his eyes.

“Oh, yeah? So all of these years it’s been for nothing? You really think that?” They stopped on the front lawn of his house.

“Punz, I don’t know anything anymore,” Sapnap exclaimed with a laugh, and Punz didn’t interrupt. “My best friend threw my into prison, threatened to _kill_ Quackity and Karl, and then didn’t fucking _tell me_ that George was alive. What the fuck am I supposed to think?”

Sapnap moved to leave, and Punz tugged his arm. “Dream said that Quackity wanted to use George as a hostage, and intended to hurt him. Is that true?”

Sapnap hesitated. “We didn’t want to hurt him. We _didn’t_ want to blow shit up, and we didn’t want to spawn withers. That was Technoblade’s doing.”

Punz stared at him, and let go of his arms. “I trust you.”

Sapnap raised a brow, eyeing where Punz’ sweatshirt had charred on his sleeves. “Do you?”

“We’re friends.” He shrugged, and Sapnap felt the tension in his shoulders lessen.

They stared at one another before Sapnap finally looked his house up and down again, sucking in his cheeks. He guessed he would have to wait before going to Dream's, disappointed he never got an answer. He was not in any mood to see him _or_ George for the rest of the day. He eyed Punz, the only person he had left, who gave him a look as if begging him not to ask.

“If you’re really my friend…” Sapnap grinned weakly, dragging out his vowels, and Punz scowled, getting what he was implying immediately. He started forward and ducked into Sapnap’s house without another word, already set on cleaning up as quickly as possible. 

Maybe Sapnap _did_ have at least one person he could trust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was kind of hard to write for me so I hope you enjoyed :,) also heads up I plan to do DNF week so yay for that!! If you do not know what that is, check it out on [twitter](https://twitter.com/primdise/status/1368502151866019841?s=21) :0 
> 
> bye and thanks again for reading and for all of the comments, i love you people sm :]


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